


Mischievous Friends

by LiviKate



Series: Mischievous Friends [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BDSM, Bad boy Otabek, Clubbing, Comeplay, Crack, Daddy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Drinking Games, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Crack, Hung Otabek, Jealous Yuri, Lingerie, M/M, Minor Violence, Never Have I Ever, Phone Sex, Public Sex, Puppy Play, Rare Pairings, Recreational Drug Use, Seung-gil makes a big appearance, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, ace Phichit, daddybek, dj otabek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 117,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviKate/pseuds/LiviKate
Summary: The skaters play Never Have I Ever at Leo's birthday party and learn what a bad boy quiet Otabek is. Cue Yuri and Otabek falling head over heels in love and exploring all the ways Otabek can corrupt his innocent little tiger.Or in which Bad Boy DJ Otabek is Yuri Plisetsky's aesthetic.





	1. Never Have I Ever

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly useless but it's how I deal with stress.

This was a bad idea. It was stupid and it was foolish and it was childish and Yuri had no idea how this had even begun.

It was Leo’s birthday, and nearly all of his friends (and Yuri, by extension) had flown to America in the offseason to celebrate. The actual party had been insane, with Otabek abandoning him to DJ the whole event. Yuri didn’t actually mind that much; though he would’ve wanted to stay close with best friend, the one person he always wanted to be near, he also liked hearing the music he could create. He let Leo DJ for a little bit, teaching him how to mix as his birthday present. It went terribly, but everyone laughed good-naturedly at each mistake, Leo’s grin lighting up the crowd in his huge back yard like strobe lights never could.

It had since settled down, now in the early hours of the morning. Only Leo’s international guests remained, as they were all crashing at his house. Otabek was finally returned to Yuri’s side, which was good because the few beers he’d been allowed to have were causing him to list slightly to the right, resting his head against Beka’s shoulder.

They were all seated in a misshapen circle in Leo’s living room, sipping drinks and chatting. It was then that Phichit demonstrated just how much he was still stuck in the college life.

“Let’s play a game!” he shouted, snapchatting with one hand, as if autonomous from his being. “Let’s play Never Have I Ever!”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Viktor had exclaimed, pushing a glass of water into Yuuri’s hand, at the same time Yuri grumbled “That’s a terrible idea,” to Otabek. Otabek just huffed a laugh, nodding in agreement.

But the suggestion gained traction in the group and soon they were all sitting there, drinks held between their knees or set down, ten fingers up and smiling at each other (except Yuri, obviously).

“I’ll start,” Phichit said excitedly, and Yuri was continually amazed by his endless energy. It was one in the morning already, how wasn’t he tired? “Never have I ever had sex!” Everyone groaned as almost every other player put a finger down. Phichit grinned, the ace little bastard. Yuri’s shoulders hunched in, trying to draw his ten fingers into himself. He glanced at Guang Hong, the other youngest skater, though he at least had turned eighteen, and saw that he, too, had put a finger down. Yurii looked away when Leo nipped at his ear, causing his boyfriend to giggle.

“I guess it’s my turn,” Viktor said grandly, as if he hadn’t been waiting since the game was suggested to go. “Well I have had sex, but never have I ever had a threesome,” he said, with a pointed eyebrow at Chris. The Swiss just shrugged and put a finger down.

“Don’t act like we didn’t invite you,” he said, and Viktor laughed.

“Well, then, never have I ever been invited to a threesome,” Yuuri said with a laugh, grinning as Viktor pouted at him, putting a finger down reluctantly.

“That could change, Yuuri,” Chris said, winking and rolling his mouth over his name in that over the top way he had. Yuri shuddered.

“Guang Hong,” Katsuki prompted, changing the subject and moving the game along.

“Um, well, I guess I’ve never done any drugs?” he said hesitantly, as if he didn’t know if that was a good one or not. A few people around the circle put fingers down. Yuri still had all ten.

“Never have I ever done any drug harder than weed,” Leo said, and no one was surprised when Chris put another finger down.

“Never have I ever been arrested,” Seung-gil said, and that ruined Yuri’s hypothesis that he was secretly a serial killer. Or did it? Either way he leaned farther into Otabek’s side. The older skater wrapped an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“Never have I ever had sex with a girl,” Emil said, sending a significant look towards Michele. Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Never have I ever had sex with a boy,” Sara said, sending a similar look towards Mila. Yuri gagged at the blush on ~~his friend’s~~ the hag’s face, nearly matching her hair.

It was Michele’s turn, he was sitting next in the circle, but he looked a little overwhelmed. The group laughed as he took a moment to collect himself.

“Um,” he said, shaking his head, and sending his sister one last concerned glance before letting his gaze skip away embarrassedly from Emil’s. “Um, never have I ever had sex outside?” he said, face screwed up like he really couldn’t think of anything better.

“You live in Italy!” Chris exclaimed incredulously, prompting good-natured laughter from the group.

Yuri was curling up tighter and tighter into his little ball, cognizant of the fact that he was the only person with all ten fingers still up. Even Phichit had lost a finger. Yuri didn’t have the excuse of being asexual, he was just young, he guessed. Still, it was embarrassing. He didn’t want to be treated like a child, but as far as this game was demonstrating, he was practically a baby.

He looked up from his little ball of anger when Mila reached behind Otabek’s back to poke him in the side. He glared at her around his friend, but she leaned in with a grin on her face that he knew meant mischief.

“You’re gonna like this one,” she said conspiratorially behind Otabek’s back. She turned back to the group and announced, “Never have I ever had a crush on Yuri Plisetsky.”

Yuri scowled at the group, daring someone to put a finger down. Guang Hong did with a scarlet flush on his cheeks and so did Seung-gil, with no expression at all. Otabek chuckled against his side, and Yuri looked at his face, glaring for all he was worth. But it wasn’t a mean laugh, and there was a soft sort of smile on his face. Yuri smiled back, just a little bit, getting a little lost for a small moment in his friend’s eyes, wondering if maybe Otabek had put a finger down for him.

“Otabek, it’s your turn,” someone prompted, Yuri didn’t know who. He was watching, enraptured as a tiny pinkness came to the tips of Beka’s ears, the kind of blush he was sure only he would know how to recognize.

“I’m out already,” Otabek said, turning back to the group and shrugging. Their ~~friends~~ fellow skaters and casual acquaintances around them were all looking at the Kazakh with varying degrees of dropped jaws and disbelief. It took a moment for Otabek’s words to sink in.

“What?” Yuri shouted, losing all cool and calm in less than a second. “You’re already out?” Otabek just shrugged, staring serenely at the people around him. “You’re already out and I still have every single finger up?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Otabek said, though there was a smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.

“You’ve had a threesome?” Guang Hong asked in a voice that was small but in awe.

“Dude, you didn’t tell me that,” Leo said, sounding a little hurt.

“You’ve been arrested?” Viktor exclaimed. “And I let my young son stay with you! Yuuri, we are terrible parents!”

“I’m not your son,” Yuri growled reflexively, before rounding on Otabek again. “How can you be out, only ten people went.”

“I only had ten fingers,” he said, and some people around them chuckled in surprise, but Yuri knew exactly how sassy Otabek was under that quiet exterior.

“Explain,” he demanded, crossing his arms and scooting away from Otabek to glare at him with his whole body.

"Once I went to a club,” Otabek shrugged. “I met a couple there, a boy and a girl, and they liked me.” He held up five fingers, pointing to them as he listed them, “Had sex, with a boy, with a girl, invited to a threesome, had a threesome.” The tips of his ears began to pinken again as he realized every one was staring at him. But he was only explaining himself to Yuri. “We did a little ecstasy, which I do not recommend.” He raised two more fingers, for drugs and hard drugs. “We had sex in a public park and got arrested.” Two more fingers popped up, making nine.

Yuri’s jaw was in grave danger of unhinging.

“You did all of that in one night?!” Otabek was beginning to squirm, no doubt getting uncomfortable at all of the attention on him. He wasn’t usually an attention grabbing guy. Except, apparently, when he was having wild sex-capades.

“And what about the last one?” Mila asked teasingly. Then Beka really blushed, ducking his head.

“And I have a crush on Yuri Plisetsky.”

At that, Yuri’s jaw snapped shut and his tense pout relaxed into disbelief. Painfully aware of all of his ~~friends~~ distant acquaintances around him, he tried to keep his cool, but knew he was tomato red.

“Well,” he said, sliding back into Otabek’s side. “I guess that’s okay then.”

“Okay, let’s play again, I’ll start,” Viktor said in a single breath, eyes trained on Otabek, that fake smile on his face. “Never have I have had sex with a seventeen year old while I was an adult.” Otabek rolled his eyes and held up all ten fingers where everyone could see them. Most people laughed, Yuri just scowled.

“Hey,” Yuri said quietly, when conversation and chatter had returned to the party. He didn’t lean away when Otabek turned his head, leaving their faces mere inches apart. “Do you do that kind of stuff a lot?” Otabek considered his answer carefully.

“Not most of it. I don’t like doing drugs that much, I’ve only been arrested a couple times—”

“ _A couple times?_ ” Yuri hissed at him, fingers digging threateningly into the meat of his thigh. Otabek flinched satisfactorily.

“I have never been charged, I was a minor for most of it,” he defended, wrapping his hand around Yuri’s, cradling it in his lap as it softened.

“You’re such a delinquent,” Yuri said, feeling a little breathless. Otabek grinned, a cocky smirk worn loosely on his lips.

“You like it,” he insisted, in that low voice that he had, that makes shivers rain down Yuri’s spine. “The punk and the delinquent, sounds like a perfect fit.”

Yuri wheezed out a breath that didn’t make him sound desperate or pathetic at all.

“Are you going to kiss me?” he asked, a little scared but mostly hopeful.

“Not in front of everyone,” the other man replied, tilting his head to indicate the crowd of ~~friends~~ people still around them. All it did was change the angle of his lips, making it so easy for Yuri to imagine leaning forward, pressing against him. “But you should stay with me tonight.” Yuri choked on his breath a little, pulling back slightly.

“I-I’m, I’m not, Beks, I don't,” he stuttered, thinking all at once that his underwear was bright pink cheetah print, and he didn’t have any hair on his chest yet, and he didn’t know that he wanted to do all those things he kept seeing online.

“Just to sleep,” Otabek assured him, squeezing gently around the hand in his lap. “You’re only seventeen, I get that.”

“Only for four more months,” Yuri hastened to say.

“However long it takes for you to be ready,” Otabek said, one hand touching just the very tips of his blond hair where it hung around their faces.

“Are you going to keep having sex with all those other people?” Yuri asked, pouting his lip delicately, trying to sound like he didn’t care either way.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Beka said, his hand sliding between the curtain of his hair and the softness of his cheek. “Not if you don’t want to see any other people.”

“You’re the only person I ever want to see,” Yuri confessed.

“No other people,” the other boy promised. “Just you.” Yuri grinned at him, bright and joyous, hiding under the cover of his hair to press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, his first kiss.

They finally pulled away from each other, turning back to the group just in time to see everyone suddenly looking away from them. Yuri crossed his arms and blew a piece of hair out of his face. Otabek just wrapped an arm around him again and pulled him snuggly into his side. Game play continued and Yuri tried not to blush every time Otabek swept his thumb across the skin of his hip.

“Hey,” the older boy whispered, leaning in to whisper into his ear. “Next time we play this game, maybe you’ll have checked some of these things off your list.” Yuri flushed even darker, thinking of all the things they could do together.

“No threesomes,” he said, too loudly. All his friends, yes, friends, around him laughed, but no one was quite prepared for when Seung-gil said “Too bad,” without even looking up from his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	2. Fuck Yes I Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of getting rid of this ridiculous pile of nonsense, I'm just adding to it. Because you all asked so nicely in the comments.
> 
> ALSO I added an important little chunk in the middle of this that I totally forgot about the first time I posted this, but is a crucial piece of the Bad Boy Beka aesthetic.

“This is getting boring,” Yuri complained, finishing another drink and slumping even further into Otabek’s lap, where he had more or less splayed into. He had barely gotten to participate in Never Have I Ever, because apparently everyone here was just sex-crazed and that’s all they seemed to want to talk about.

“Yurio is right,” Phichit decreed, ignoring the grumble of “that’s not my name.” “Let’s play a new game. How about Fuck Yes I Have? It’s like the opposite of Never Have I Ever, instead, you say things you have done that you don’t think anyone else has.”

“Sounds cool, let’s do it!” Leo said enthusiastically. So basically just like he says everything. “Anyone need another drink?” Yuri raised his empty cup in the air and Leo collected it, along with several others. Yuri’s head was pleasantly swimmy and his skin felt warm. He was in a very happy state of drunkenness. Or, as happy as Yuri ever let himself be in public.

“I don’t think I’m going to like this game,” Otabek said quietly, just to him, folding over the younger boy slightly. Otabek was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed at the ankles, Yuri’s shoulders on one thigh, his head propped on the other.

“Why not? You’ll probably win,” Yuri grumbled, though the way he brought delicate fingers up to trace the strong curve of his partners cheek gave away how happy and kind he was feeling.

“By telling all these people about me,” Otabek said, with a grim look on his face. Yuri grinned up at him, at the sullen, quiet boy filled with secrets. He grinned because he was pretty sure he was the only person in this room Otabek actually liked talking to.

“Alright let’s play!” Leo said, returning to the room with drinks in hand. He passed them back to their owners and Yuri took a long drink.

“What is this?” Yuri asked, forgetting for a moment to make his voice as acidic as people were used to.

“It’s just rum and coke,” Leo said, sitting down on the floor in front of Guang Hong, leaning back against his knees.

“Yuri, if you’re going to drink, please sit up,” Viktor said. He was being shockingly responsible tonight, as far as Viktor is ever responsible. “I don’t want you to choke.”

Yuri grumbled and made clear that he had no intention of moving. Which was why he squealed in shock when Otabek grabbed him by his beltloops and drug him more fully into his lap, wrapping an arm around his chest and settling him between his legs, leaning back against him. Yuri’s drink sloshed dangerously in his cup, but settled, much like the boy did, as he leaned against the Kazakh’s broad, warm chest. He made sure to glare at Viktor though, who was making obnoxious sounds with both hands slapped to his cheeks. Katsudon was no help either, telling Yuri how pretty he looked when he smiled. Freaks.

“I’ll start, because it’s my birthday,” Leo said, raising his cup victoriously. “Fuck yes I have turned twenty one!” A rousing cheer went up as most of those in attendance drank, leaving Guang Hong, Emil and Mila to roll their eyes at each other. Yuri closed his eyes instead and focused on how he could feel the way Otabek’s chest moved when he laughed.

“Michele, you’ve been quiet, why don’t you go?” Leo suggested next, missing the pout on his boyfriend’s face.

Guang Hong threaded a hair through the hair at the back of Leo’s head, petting him gently. His cheeks were bright red, from alcohol and embarrassment. He was shy by nature, but was coming more and more out of his shell as the game went one. Sometimes he would even make a comment on something adventurous he and Leo had done, flushing bright pink as he did so, but looking smug about it all the same. Yuri thought that he was starting to like the kid.

“Fuck yes I have,” Michele said slowly as he thought. “Been in a fistfight.”

Otabek drank.

“Really Otabek,” Viktor said, seemingly intrigued, and a fair amount worried. “Who have you been fighting?”

“People,” was the short answer.

“That’s not very descriptive,” Viktor admonished. “And if you’re going to be dating my son, I should know these sorts of things about you.”

“I’m not your son,” Yuri insisted, once more with feeling. But Viktor’s subtle threat seemed to have the intended effect and Otabek nodded consideringly. Yuri tried to be annoyed by that.

“Kazakhstan is not always a safe place for queer people.” Otabek turned his head to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple. “And I take care of my own.”

Viktor nodded approvingly and Yuri tried really hard to control his heart rate, racing because of how disturbingly sexy it was to imagine Otabek brushing over his skin with bloody knuckles.

“Oh, yeah, man," Leo began excitedly. "There was this one time we were leaving a club at some competition, and we shouldn't have been able to get in but Altin knew the DJ, and this dude, this huge dude, just straight up grabbed his ass and he just spun around and decked him. Right in the face. Dude went down like a ton of bricks. It was awesome,” Leo said, face and mouth loose from alcohol, head lolling back on his boyfriend’s knees. "I still can't believe you didn't break your hand. The whole club heard the punch, it was so loud and cool."

"I know how to throw a punch," he said simply, and Yuri tried not to find that ridiculously sexy.

“Great,” Phichit mumbled in to his drink. “Now the Russian Punk has a terrifying body guard.” Yuri and Otabek just grinned at each other, before Otabek ducked his face to brush their noses together, like a soft little kitten instead of a man who can knock out another man with a single punch.

“Let’s keep playing,” Leo said, looking upside down to his partner. “Baby, did you want to go?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a good one,” Guang Hong said with a mischievous smile. “Because I better be the only one here to have slept with the birthday boy,” Guang Hong said, with a nervous little wobble in his throat.

Otabek cleared his throat and took a small sip, looking significantly at Leo.

“Leo?!” Guang Hong gasped, using his grip in his boyfriend’s hair to tip his head back to look up at him. Yuri looked over his shoulder to see his boyfriend’s ears turning a light pink. Yuri still wasn’t quite used to the fact that he had a boyfriend, he didn’t know quite how to feel about his past lovers. He didn’t know what to do about the bubbling jealousy in his stomach.

“Years ago,” Leo said, twisting out of the younger boy’s hold to kneel in front of him. “When we trained together in California.”

“Only once,” Beka commented, catching sight of the snarkily raised brow Yuri was giving him. He looked uncomfortable.

“Besides,” Leo said, leaning into Guang Hong’s space and pressing a kiss to his beet red cheek. “He taught me how to do that thing you like.” The younger skaters eyes widened.

“ _That_ thing?” he asked, and Leo nodded enthusiastically. Guang Hong looked to Otabek with watery, intense eyes. “ _Thank you._ ”

Otabek just nodded serenely.

“What _thing_ is this?” Chris asked nosily, leaning forward with his chin in his hand.

“I can’t even explain it, but it’s life changing. Altin, you tell them,” Leo said, eyes only for Guang Hong, hands rubbing up and down his thighs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Otabek said simply.

“Oh come on, _Beka_ ,” Chris purred.

“Don’t,” Yuri hissed, lurching forward. “Don’t call him that.” Otabek wrapped a containing arm around his chest.

“I don’t remember which one I showed him,” he said quietly. “I have lots of things.”

“You don’t remember?” Leo asked, looking genuinely hurt. “That thing with your tongue?” Otabek’s expression didn’t change. “I legitimately screamed.”

“You screamed at a lot of things,” Otabek said with a single eyebrow raised.

The other skaters were watching the back and forth like this was a group of tennis stars and not ice dancers, enraptured smiles on their faces.

“How old were you?” Yuri asked, shifting in his lap to look at him. Otabek looked somewhere over his left ear and said nothing. “You were eighteen when you moved back to Almaty. You trained in Canada after the US for two years. So you were younger than I am now.” Otabek still didn’t say anything. Yuri was beginning to seethe. “How. Old. Were. You.”

“Look, Yuuri, their first fight,” Viktor cooed. “Take a picture, I’m going to make a scrapbook.”

“Fifteen. Maybe sixteen,” Otabek finally admitted. Yuri’s glare hardened. “Leo was the same age, it wasn’t weird.”

“Wow, Otabek,” Phichit said, grinning from behind his phone. “You’re kind of a slut.”

The Kazakh skater’s face didn’t change, but Yuri felt his shoulders curl in slightly around him.

“Shut the fuck up, Phichit,” Yuri growled, whipping around to snarl at the other boy. “You don’t get to talk about him like that.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Phichit hastened to say, holding his hands out placatingly. “I’m just saying, you have a lot of experience.”

“Whatever,” Otabek said, but he held onto Yuri tightly, both arms snaking around his body to pull him back against his chest. “I moved around a lot as a kid, I met a lot of different kinds of people.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Yuri said staunchly, poking out his jaw and glaring at anyone and everyone. “He’s mine now, anyone with a problem with him has a problem with me.” Viktor and Chris cooed at him, not intimidated in the slightest. “And you can all stop fantasizing and talking about my boyfriend’s sex life. Just stop thinking about it.”

“One last thing?” Leo asked and Yuri glared at him. “It’s important,” he insisted, giving Yuri puppy-dog eyes that he must’ve learned from Guang Hong.

“Fine,” Yuri said, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. Otabek reached up and caught it, tucking it behind his ear. “Last thing and then we all stop sexualizing my badass boyfriend.”

“His dick,” Leo said dramatically, “is _huge_.”

Viktor screamed, Guang Hong whined pathetically, Otabek buried his face in his boyfriend’s hair, Sara handed Mila twenty dollars, and Yuri might have imagined it, but he was pretty sure Seung-gil whispered “There is a god,” seemingly to no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	3. Hoe Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to hell.
> 
> ALSO, i updated chapter 2 to add like five sentences that I thought were important to Bad Boy Beka aesthetic, so you might want to go skim through that.

“It sounds to me like we need to have a Hoe Off,” Mila announced, grinning devilishly.

“A what?” Leo asked, finishing yet another drink, even though he should’ve stopped one or two ago. It was his birthday, his first at the legal drinking age for his country, no one was going to stop him.

“A Hoe Off, to decide who is the biggest hoe,” Mila said, as if this was a good idea, or anything really that wouldn’t end terribly.

“I don’t know about this,” Michele cautioned, probably afraid of what he might learn about his sister.

“I’m in,” Chris said, surprising a grand total of absolutely zero people.

“Why not?” Viktor said. He pulled himself off of Katsudon’s back for probably the first time all night.

“And Otabek, obviously,” Mila said, as game commissioner.

“How do we play?” Viktor asked, squirming in his seat like he was part poodle. He might be, Yuri considered. It would answer a lot of questions.

“You, Chris, and Otabek will play, unless anyone else thinks they could stand a chance?” Mila looked around the group, seeing everyone shaking their heads, wide eyed looks of fear and excitement coloring their features. “Great, so it’s easy. We will all give suggestions of things we think one of you might have done. If you’ve done it, you drink. If you haven’t, you get a strike. If no one drinks, it doesn’t count. Five strikes, and you’re out. The last person in is the biggest hoe!”

“Where do you come up with this stuff?” Yuri grumbled. “Beka doesn’t have to play this idiot game if he doesn’t want to.” Otabek looked consideringly at Chris and Viktor’s eager expressions.

“Careful, Altin,” Chris said in that pornstar voice he had. “Viktor and I have nearly ten years of experience on you. It might be embarrassing.”

Otabek looked at him flatly, before tipping his head back and draining the rest of his drink. “I started early,” he said, simply, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “I’m in.”

“Yay!” Mila said, clapping her hands evilly. “Leo, can you grab Otabek a new drink?” Leo stood up unsteadily and wandered into the kitchen.

“Whatever he makes is going to be way too strong,” Yuri grumbled, twisting sideways in Otabek’s lap. He pressed his warm forehead against the steady pulse in the side of his partner’s neck.

“You doing okay, Yura?” he asked very quietly, his head coming up to touch the center of his back. The Russian shivered, still so new to these casual touches and endearments. Not that they didn’t do them before, they did. But now they were together, dating, boyfriends, and it made it all feel so much different, even if it was really the same. Yuri frowned at his own circular logic. His head was swimming. He’ll blame it on the alcohol and switch to water for a little bit.

“Yeah, babe,” he said, trying out the name, finding it sweet on his tongue. “I’m good.” He pressed a kiss to his partner’s throat, and felt him swallow. He settled, awkwardly at first, to lean sideway against him, fitting one shoulder under his arm, wishing for the first time in a long time that he was still shorter than the other boy.

Leo returned with his drink, and Otabek took it with the arm not wrapped around Yuri’s back. He took a sip and made a face, the very corner of his mouth pulling in at the taste.

“Thanks,” he said, because he was polite and no one other than Yuri would be able to tell that he didn’t like it. Yuri took it out of his hand and replaced it with his own, putting the other aside.

“Are you boys ready?” Mila asked, positively gleeful at having orchestrated this shit show. Yuri had no idea how he’d ever come to know such perverts.

“Wait, so we just say things?” Sara giggled. “Just any sex thing?”

“Yup,” Mila said, popping the p. “Giving and receiving count as two different sex acts.”

“Omg, okay,” she said laughing. “Sucking dicks!” She slapped her hands over her mouth and cackled. All three boys took a drink, laughing along with her. Michele dropped his head into his hands.

“My sister just said dicks, my sister just said dicks,” he moaned, and Emil slid in close to his side, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Good one, Sara,” Mila said, grinning. “Start small, I like it. More suggestions!”

“Bottoming,” Leo suggested. All three took a drink.

“Topping,” Guang Hong followed up. They drank.

“69.” They drank.

“Rimming,” Emil suggested. They drank. “Being rimmed.” They drank.

“Given a hickey,” Guang Hong suggested, they all drank and Yuri caught Otabek rolling his eyes.

“Way to be adventurous on that one, Guang Hong,” Yuri said, but there wasn’t as much derision in his voice as perhaps there should’ve been. “Hurry up and start suggesting weird stuff or they’re going to be smashed before we get to anything interesting.”

“Well, Yuri,” Mila said in a singsong voice that could only mean danger. “You could start suggesting things. What do you want to know about your new boyfriend?”

Yuri was tempted. But also nervous. He didn’t know what he wanted to know. He looked at Otabek, and saw a bit of a challenge in his eyes, in the frame of his lips.

“Bondage,” he said, and Mila cheered. Otabek took a drink, grinning at him from around the rim of his cup. The other two did as well.

“Being tied up or tying someone else us?” Leo asked.

“Both,” Mila declared, and the three boys took another drink.

“Fisting,” Sara said, from behind her hands again.

“Jesus Christ, Sara,” Michele groaned, getting up and fleeing to the kitchen to get another drink. Emil followed, chuckling. Otabek took a drink, the other two didn’t.

“Seriously?” Mila asked, looking at him like Christmas had come early. He shrugged.

“Other BDSM stuff,” Guang Hong said timidly.

“Not specific enough,” Phichit tutted. “C’mon, Guang Hong, impress us with your kink knowledge.” The young skater sat up a little straighter and firmed his jaw.

“Spanking, temperature play, blindfolds.” Phichit’s jaw dropped. He looked impressed. Otabek and Chris drank for all three, Viktor for two.

“One strike for you,” Mila said, clapping her hands. “Which one did it?” It was temperature play. “Also, congratulations Guang Hong.” The boy blushed. She turned her attention back to the players. “Drink if you’ve made a partner come in less than a minute.” Otabek drank.

“No way, I don’t believe it,” Chris contested.

“You can call her,” Otabek said with a loose shrug, alcohol loosening his shoulders and tongue. “Best she’s ever had.”

“Not fair, girls are easier, and I don’t fuck girls,” Chris complained.

“I am the expert of fucking girls, and I can't do that. It counts,” Mila defended, and Otabek titled his head at Chris, a sexy smirk on his lips. Yuri shivered in his lap and the Kazakh felt it, wrapping his arm tightly around his waist, cupping his hip in his palm.

“Drink if you’ve made a partner come more than four times in an hour,” Katsudon said proudly, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Viktor’s throat when he threw his head back to take a long, victorious drink. Otabek drank as well.

“Oh my God,” Phichit said, a hand over his heart. “That doesn’t even sound nice. That’s way too much.”

“You’d be surprised,” Katsudon said and Yuri shuddered, this time in disgust.

“Ugh, you guys are gross,” he complained.

“You’re just jealous. Soon this will be you,” Viktor said, pressing a loud kiss into Katsu’s fat cheek.

Otabek hummed in his ear. “Yes, it will be. I’ll treat you so well,” he growled lowly, voice full of filthy promise.

“Fuck, Beka,” Yuri moaned fisting his hand in Beka’s shirt to keep himself from grabbing his cock through his jeans.

“Chris and Viktor each have three strikes now,” Mila said.

“Drink if you’ve cried during sex,” Sara cried, before hiccupping. Otabek drank. Mila and Sara cackled. “Really?” Sara asked excitedly.

“Fisting, man,” he said, shaking his head with a reminiscent smile on his face. “It is not easy.” Yuri whimpered a little, an unconscious sound as he shifted, feeling Otabek’s dick twitch under his thigh.

“Sex in public,” he suggested, hooking an arm around his partner’s neck.

“Is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Beka murmured against his lips, nudging their noses together.

“Stop flirting, you’re playing a game,” Phichit said, throwing a pillow at them. They both laughed, happily surprising their friends, who didn’t often see those two with smiles on their faces. Otabek took a drink. Viktor had not.

“Viktor’s out!” Mila announced, tossing her arms in the air. “Viktor is the smallest hoe!”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works,” Phichit said into his cup, and Yuri laughed along with him. The Thai skater beamed, like pulling a laugh out of the Russian punk was his shining achievement.

“What’s the score?” Emil asked, poking his head back into the room.

“Chris has four strikes and Otabek has zero.”

“Can I give suggestions now?” Viktor asked, wrapping back around his husband’s shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mila shrugged.

“Great!” Viktor flashed that heart shaped smile and Yuri knew there would be trouble. “Drink if you’ve had phone sex or Skype sex.”

Chris drank, and for the first time, Otabek didn’t.

“Ahh, not so sexy now, are you?” Chris teased. “No phone sex?”

“That will change,” Yuri said with certainty, eyes dark as he thought of Otabek on his screen, touching himself for him. Otabek pulled him close, burying his face and his groan into the blond’s neck.

Leo and Guang Hong were giggling, Leo having pulled his drunk ass self up to sit next to his partner on the couch, and the two were cuddled up tightly together. They were whispering about phone sex, and Guang Hong was blushing again.

“Here’s a good one,” Leo said, holding his boyfriend’s chin in his hand. “Drink if you’ve had sex with someone you’re in love with.” Chris drank. Otabek didn’t.

“That’ll change too,” he said, quietly, just barely loud enough for the room to hear. The circle of friends erupted into coos and awws, but Yuri paid them no attention. He didn’t care that they were most definitely watching, or that they would undoubtedly tease him for it. He just grabbed his boyfriend by the neck and pulled him into a kiss. A desperate, open-mouthed, _loving_ kiss. Otabek set his cup down, burying his hand into Yuri’s hair and holding him close. The blond boy gasped into his mouth, feeling his tongue slide between his lips.

Yuri shifted, moving to straddle the other boy, and Otabek helped him along, with a hand palming his ass.

“Alright, settle down you two,” Katsu said. The pair didn’t break apart until Phichit lobbed another pillow at them. Yuri spent another moment just gazing at Beka’s mouth, lips swollen and spit slick.

“Fuck,” he said on a sigh, pressing another, lighter kiss to his lips, before detangling himself just enough to be appropriate. He looked over to Viktor and Katsudon, a frown on his face hiding his sheepish blush. Viktor was grinning drunkenly, cooing about the scrapbook. It was Katsudon who was staring them down, a serious frown putting a line between his eyebrows.

“Drink if you’ve had unprotected sex,” he said shortly, his voice serious. Chris drank. Otabek didn’t. “Drink if you’ve cheated on a significant other.” Neither man drank. “Drink if you’ve ever had an STI.” Chris drank. Otabek didn’t. “Good,” he finished, with a satisfied nod. Yuri’s face was warm and his heart felt uncomfortably full at being so carefully looked after.

“Well after that charming moment, Chris and Otabek are tied!” Mila announced, from where she’d laid her head in Sara’s lap, the Italian’s fingers in her hair.

“I’ve got a good one,” Yuri said, turning back to his boyfriend and sliding a hand into his hair. “Drink if you’ve ever come thinking about me.”

Chris groaned about them being disgusting and unfair while Otabek took his drink, raising his glass in a mock salute as everyone cheered for the winner of the Hoe Off. He took a swig before setting it down and kissing Yuri with a tongue that tasted like rum. Yuri was too busy being kissed within an inch of his life to notice Seung-gil Lee draining the rest of his drink and collapsing on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	4. Cheers to the Governor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the madness continues

“C’mon, you need a glass of water,” Yuri said, lurching to his feet and extending a hand to his boyfriend and pulling him up. His hand was warm and broad, and gave a stability to his otherwise weak knees. Otabek followed easily, sliding a hand forward to rest on the blond’s narrow hip as he swayed on his first step.

They went to the kitchen, and Otabek leaned against his back while he filled their cups with water from the sink.

“Beka, babe, I think you’re drunk,” Yuri said with a gentle smile.

“Yeah, a little,” Otabek said, a huff of a chuckle tickling his ear. “You are, too, though.”

The Russian spun around in his arms, leaning back against the counter. He passed him his cup and stared down into his own.

“I'm sorry I kissed you like that,” he said to his water cup.

“Why are you sorry?” Otabek asked, stepping in closer until their knees knocked together.

“You said you didn’t want to kiss me in front of everyone,” Yuri said, looking over the other boy’s shoulder. “And then I kissed you in front of everyone.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” Otabek said. “Now that everyone knows all of the things I’ve done, I didn’t know if you’d still want to kiss me in front of them.”

“You think I’m going to slut shame you?” Yuri said with a gentle laugh, the kind only Otabek got to hear from him. “I’m not.” He set his cup down and grabbed the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him in close until their chests touch. “Do I like knowing you’ve fucked de la Iglesia? Maybe not. Am I thinking about you making me come four times in an hour? Yeah,” he said, his voice shaking with nerves and lust. “And I really want to kiss you again.”

Otabek smirked at him, setting down his cup and taking Yuri’s face in his hands. The Russian slid his hands under his jacket, tracing the warm muscles under his soft tshirt. This time when Beka’s mouth touched his, there wasn’t an audience of other skaters to see them. It was just his velvet-soft lips pulling at his, his tongue flickering at his, asking for entry.

Yuri let him in on a sigh, opening his mouth for Beka’s tongue to slide in, stroking gently across his. Yuri’s heart rate picked up further as his partner sucked his lip into his mouth, tugging with hot suction and sliding his tongue over the captured flesh. He bit down, a little too hard for it to have been gentle, and Yuri moaned. Otabek swallowed it down, hands on his face tilting his head to give him a better angle as he sunk smoothly into his mouth once more. Yuri’s hands on his back turned to gasping claws and the Kazakh pushed a thigh between his, stepping in close enough that Yuri felt his nipples through his shirt. He ran one hand around to his front, investigating the feeling. He rubbed his thumb over one pebbling nub and his dick got a little hard when Otabek bit his lip with even more force.

“Are your nipples pierced?” Yuri’s thumb swept around flesh and metal again.

“Do you like it?” Otabek asked, and when Yuri nodded, their lips dragged together. “Then you’re really gonna like my dick.”

Yuri groaned, grabbing his boyfriend’s hips and pulling them harshly against his, kissing him back with enough force to bow the older boy’s back. Otabek fisted a hand in his hair to hold him close, kissing him just as fiercely, rolling his hips, letting Yuri feel his cock in his jeans.

“Fuck, Beks,” he whimpered, feeling him pushing hot and heavy against his thigh. “We, um, we should stop,” he said, before kissing him again, nipping at his lips with enthusiasm.

“You’re right,” Otabek said, pulling back.

“Yeah, definitely,” Yuri said, trailing his mouth down over his sharp jaw biting along the curve of it. It wasn’t even a curve, just a straight line, sharp enough to cut. He slid his tongue along the edge, tasting danger. Otabek’s hand flexed in his hair, and the prickle of pain in his scalp made Yuri whine and go completely boneless against him.

“Oh, you like that,” Beka said, a devious grin in his eyes.

“I love everything you do to my hair,” he sighed, alcohol making him honest.

They were standing there, Yuri draped over the Kazakh, loose grins on their faces and half hard dicks in their jeans when Michele cleared his throat.

“Um,” Yuri said intelligently, straightening up when the other boy released his hair. Blinking at the Italian, he asked, “How long have you been there?”

“Literally the whole time,” Michele said, looking distraught. “Since my sister asked if your boyfriend had ever had a whole hand in his ass.”

“Ah,” Yuri said, cutting his gaze to said boyfriend, before they both looked back to the long-suffering, melodramatic skater. And for once, that description was not being applied to either of them. Yuri started with a little snicker, but once Otabek let out a low peel of giggles, he dissolved into full, loud laughter.

He sobered when he heard the shutter of Viktor’s camera, set to the sound of Makkachin barking, and him cooing, “Look how happy Yurio is, he’s so smiley!”

Yuri tried to scowl, but found that the most he could manage was a tight lipped frown, giggles still rolling out of him.

“C’mon boys, we’re playing a new game,” Katsudon beckoned them.

“Michele, it’s safe for you to come back,” Sara called into the kitchen, and Yuri laughed at the wary look on her brother’s face as they made their way back to the party room, water in hand.

“Alright, now what idiotic game is next,” Yuri asked, this time taking a seat behind Otabek, curling his legs around him and crossing them at the ankles in his lap. He hooked his chin over his shoulder and slid his empty hand under his shirt, keeping it warm against the skin of his abs.

“Like father like son, I see,” Katsu whispered to Phichit, loud enough for everyone to hear, and Yuri looked over to see Viktor draped over the Japanese skater’s back, like he always was, and like Yuri was with his own partner.

“Tsk,” Yuri said, disgusted, trying to detangle himself before anyone else noticed. But Otabek’s big hand settled on his ankles, holding them together.

“I like it,” he said, his face seemingly impassive, but Yuri saw the quirk of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Yuri kissed it, and relaxed, tossing a glare at Viktor as Makkachin barked again.

“Alright, how do I win this game?” he asked.

“It’s called Cheers to the Governor,” Emil said. “We all count in a circle to 21. When we get to 21, we all say “Cheers to the Governor” and we drink. The person who is number 21 gets to make up a rule for another other number. It could be that instead of four, you say čtyři, or the person who is seven takes a drink instead of saying anything. If anyone messes up a rule, we start from one again.”

“This sounds complicated,” Chris complained, from where he was curled up at Viktor and Katsuki’s feet.

“You’re just confused because you’re drunk,” Mila said, patting him on the head, like a dog. He shrugged in agreement, though, so he must not have minded.

“It’s a memory game,” Sara said. “And it gets harder the longer it goes. It’ll be fun.”

“Lets do this shit,” Yuri said, taking a big drink of water to help steady his mind. He rubbed his cheek against the short, soft hair of Beka’s undercut and the sensation grounded him.

They counted off and Phichit ended up being 21 first.

“Two gets to give three a Truth or Dare,” he decided, and on the first trip around the circle, Leo cackled and dared Michele to kiss Emil. He did, chastely and seemingly reluctantly, but when their lips pulled apart with a gentle smack, Michele was looking decidedly surprised. Emil was grinning like it was Christmas.

The next rule maker was Chris, and in typical drunk Chris fashion, he decreed that number seven had to take off an article of clothes. Katsu asked Phichit which skater he admired most and looked absolutely shocked when Phichit looked at him and said “You, you dummy.” Then Emil had to take off his shirt.

Sara was the next 21, and she said that “cheers to the governor” must now be said in Italian. They drank again to try it out and the game continued. Yuri and Otabek were playing with water, which was probably a good choice, what with how you were guaranteed a drink every couple minutes, and Yuri was a lightweight, because he literally only weighed about 115 pounds, and Beka ended up drinking a lot because of the previous games.

So they were by no means sober when the numbering moved from Sara and Otabek got to give Yuri a truth or dare. Yuri chose dare, hoping to remind everyone here that he was the Ice Tiger of Russia and not just some blushing virgin. He looked at him with what might have seemed to anyone else a blank stare, but Yuri saw a challenge in his eyes.

“Yuri,” he said pulling the blond’s hand out from under his shirt and pressing a kiss to the palm. “I dare you to make out with Seung-gil.”

“What?” Yuri balked, fuzzy brain trying to make sense of his new boyfriend daring him to kiss another boy.

“You don’t have to,” Otabek said coolly. “But you don’t strike me as the type to turn down a dare.” Yuri searched his face, and found mischief there. He looked to Seung-gil and found the other boy trying his goddamn absolute hardest not too look like he was on the edge of his seat, trying to appear casual even as his intense gaze was boring into Yuri’s. He looked back at Otabek and found a teasing darkness in his eye, a dangerous flirtation in his smile.

“Fine,” Yuri said, feeling a little dangerous himself. He unraveled himself from around his boyfriend and knelt in front of Seung-gil, where he was also seated on the floor, leaning against the wall. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” Yuri asked, because he might be drunk and he might be an asshole, but his grandfather raised him to have at least some manners.

Seung-gil didn’t say anything, just sunk both hands into his blond hair and pulled him into a kiss. Yuri startled at immediately feeling the Korean’s tongue pushing into his mouth, and his hands grabbed his forearms, not pushing him away but looking for a little balance. He kissed so differently from Otabek, rushed and demanding and much wetter. He wasn’t sure how much he liked it, but he knew his boyfriend was watching, had wanted to see this, so he gave as good as he got. He was still new to kissing, unskilled but enthusiastic, and he was a little unsure of what to do against the continued and repeated scrape of Seung-gil’s tongue. He stopped thinking completely, however, when the other skater tightened his hands harshly in his hair, and the burn made Yuri go limp, jaw hanging open passively to the kiss.

“That’s enough,” Otabek said, after what was couldn’t have even been a full thirty seconds. Seung-gil didn’t let go right away, and with the pain of having his hair pulled still sizzling through his system, Yuri didn’t try to pull away immediately either. Otabek didn’t waste another second before wrapping his arm around Yuri’s waist and effortless hauling him up and away from the other boy. Otabek dropped him in his lap and held him close, smirking at Seung-gil who was sitting there, mouth open, eyes glazed and staring at Yuri with wonder.

“Happy?” Yuri asked his boyfriend, wiping his (ew, very wet) mouth on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Very,” Otabek said, wiping his own thumb over his very swollen bottom lip and then pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“Seung-gil, what’s your number?” Mila prompted and the Korean looked at her blankly, like he wasn’t seeing her at all.

“I don’t even know my name,” he said in his quiet, monotone voice. Everyone laughed or screamed at him, taking a drink and beginning the counting again. Yuri blushed to the roots of his hair and squirmed a little in Beka’s grip, so unused to being desired. It made him feel confident, and a little more experienced, a little more in control at this party and with this group of people. He looked at Beka and thought how lucky he was that he had a boyfriend who would give him that. He must’ve been reading his mind, because he gave him a sharp smile.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, a shitless grin on his face.

“You’re a better kisser,” Yuri said, using his ridiculous flexibility to get a leg between him and Otabek and wrap it around his waist without leaving his lap.

“Good,” he replied before kissing him again. Yuri relaxed into it, relishing in the gentle caress of his lips.

“So I get that you didn’t mind seeing me kiss someone else,” Yuri said, moving away just enough to speak, leaving their foreheads pressed together and eyes closed. “And part of me thinks that you wanting to share me is a little hot,” Otabek released an exhale that might’ve been a quiet moan. “But,” he continued, pulling back to make intense, serious eye contact. “If anyone puts their hands on you, I will rip them to pieces,” he promised darkly, and smirked when his boyfriend’s pupils swallowed his irises, his hands flexing against his hips. “Sorry if that’s not fair.”

“That’s fine with me,” Otabek said, with a voice that sounded dry and croaking, the most effected he’d sounded all night.

“Good,” Yuri growled, moving in for another kiss that was really just him biting the DJ’s bottom lip and pulling.

“Otabek,” Mila laughed, trying to get their attention. “Do you have any idea what number you’re supposed to be?”

“What?” he asked, looking away from his boyfriend and blinking like he’d forgotten about everyone else in the room. Yuri laughed, like silver bells, clean and ringing, before slithering out of his lap and back around to sit behind up, keeping him wrapped up in his long, gangly limbs. Everyone groaned and pretended to be annoyed at them as they took a drink and started again. Yuri looked around and noticed that Michele was also missing a shirt now, he and Emil were having some pretty intense eye sex and Phichit had apparently been dared to stand on his head for a minute. As the game went on, and more and more rules were added, and as people got drunker and drunker, every shouted “Saluti al governatore!” felt like more and more of an achievement.

Yuri was having fun, he realized. He was relaxed and laughing and enjoying the night with his friends. He didn’t often let his guard down around these people. The desire to be tough and be respected kept him always posturing. And the lingering insecurity that said that no one really liked him because of his dickish façade kept him from ever really trying to make friends. But having Mila lean over and press a smacking kiss to his cheek, and Viktor and Katsu teasing him for being so cuddly and Phichit begging him to finally add him on Snapchat so they could be best friends, reminded him that he didn’t need to put all his energy into being someone else for these people.

These people liked him because he was a punk. They already respected him, as an athlete and as a person, even if he got teased a lot. Yuri had never had a lot of friends, especially growing up. But he thought that somewhere in the two years since his senior debut, that had changed.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Otabek murmured to him. “I thought I was the only person who could make you smile like that.”

“I’m just happy,” he said, not bothering to hide the softness in his voice. He laid his head on his shoulder and squeezed tightly around his waist with his arms and legs, grinning when Beka released an exaggerated wheeze. “You make me happy.”

“Good,” he said, sliding his hands over the long lengths of his thighs. “It’s a good look on you.”

“You look good on me,” Yuri flirted back.

“Yes he does,” Seung-gil agreed, staring at the couple dazedly and messing up the counting order for the third time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	5. Truth or Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically everyone is drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is much more feelings and much less hilarity, because I'm just a soft little sea creature and I need fluff and feelings in my life.

It was nearing three in the morning when Chris officially started drooling on the carpet, Phichit was complaining about how much his cheeks hurt from laughing, Emil had systematically lost all of his clothes except his underwear and one sock, and Otabek was laying sprawled across the carpet, head resting in Yuri’s lap, hand lazily playing with the Russian’s fingers, splayed over his chest.

“Okay, here’s a good one,” Phichit said. “Yuuri, I dare you to get on one of the supports from the gazebo and show us some of those strippers moves again.”

“Phichit, no!” Katsudon bemoaned. “You’re so embarrassing, I want to die.”

“Viktor, I thought you were going to get him drunk enough to pole dance again,” Sara complained.

“I tried, but he was onto me,” Viktor pouted. “When he asked me what I was planning, I couldn’t lie to my husband!”

“Pathetic,” Yuri said, blowing a raspberry into the air.

“Truth or Dare, Yurio,” Katsu shouted.

“Not until you dance, you skank.”

“If anyone’s a skank here,” Michele said into his cup, looking at the new couple accusatorily.

“Say something else,” Yuri dared him, hissing.

“You’re all talk,” Michele dismissed him.

“You clearly haven’t been paying attention,” Otabek said, sitting up to smirk at Michele dangerously, cracking his knuckles.

“C’mon now, we’re all friends!” Emil shouted, doing another shot of tequila with Seung-gil at the coffee table. “It’s Leo’s birthday!”

“Yes, and for my birthday, I demand Katsuki does a sexy dance in my gazebo!” Leo said, taking a shot from Emil’s extended hand, downing it without salt or a lime, passing another to the aforementioned pole dancer. “And then Plisetsky does his truth or dare. And no one calls anyone else a skank.”

“You little peacemaker,” Guang Hong praised him, his lips red and swollen. Otabek flopped back down to rest his head on Yuri again, smiling smugly up at him.

“This is so embarrassing,” Katsu said, but he stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. Everyone cheered and followed the dancer outside. Even Seung-gil dragged himself, stumbling and mumbling, after the group.

Yuri and Otabek made no move to get up, keeping snoring Chris company on the carpet.

“You used to have a crush on him,” Otabek said with confidence, gesturing to where they could see Katsuki climbing a pole through one of the windows.

“Who? The Piggy? I did not,” Yuri scoffed, so drunk that he swayed where he sat.

“You did,” Otabek said. “You told me about how you first met. You thought he was interesting.”

“Yeah, but if anything I had a _friend-crush_ on him.” Otabek snorted. It was terribly charming.

“A friend-crush?” he asked, voice soft. It amazed Yuri that no matter what the man said, sweet or threatening or rude, his voice was always the same. Calm, soft and quiet.

“Yeah, I wanted to know about him. Maybe be his friend,” Yuri said, shrugging shyly. “I’m not good at making friends.”

“Did you have a friend-crush on me?” Otabek asked, smiling at him kindly, with just the corners of his mouth.

“Maybe,” Yuri said, combing his fingers through the long hair at the top of his head. “At least that’s what I told myself for the first year or so. But I never wanted to ride on a motorcycle, pressed against the back of Katsuki Yuuri. I never wanted to hold his hand or kiss him.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” the other boy asked, voice soft, like this was a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

“I’m not good at making friends,” Yuri said, again, shrugging sadly. “I didn’t want to mess anything up.”

“You could never,” the Kazakh promised. “Not with me.”

“Good,” he said and Otabek grabbed his hands, squeezing them lovingly before resting them on his chest again. “Because I don’t know if I’ll be good at this, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Will you say these sweet things to me when we’re both sober?” the older skater asked seriously. It was hard for Yuri to make his drunk brain work, let alone to consider what sober Yuri would do, but he tried to give a true answer.

“No, probably not,” he said, stroking his thumb over the slightly prickly curve of Otabek’s jaw. “But I’ll try to show you.”

Beka gave him a thumbs up and a soft smile. Yuri did the same.

“When you met me, again, in Barcelona, did you know you wanted me then?” Yuri asked, curious and still so new to feeling wanted.

“No, definitely not,” the other boy laughed.

“Hey!” Yuri flexed his legs, making the older boy’s laughing head jolt upwards.

“You called me an asshole!”

“Yeah, well, you saved me anyway.”

“Of course, I did,” the Kazakh said, eyes closed peacefully as he recalled that day. “I bet I probably looked at you the same way Katsuki looked at Viktor when he first showed up in Japan. You were my hero, a soldier. The reason I joined the war.”

“So you did want me?” Otabek opened one eye to look up at him, and he was laughing again, lightly this time.

“You looked like a twelve year old.”

“I was fifteen!” he protested. “And very mature for my age.”

“ _But,_ you looked like a twelve year old. Seducing you was the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to be close to you, whatever that meant. I had never felt so drawn to someone before. And I didn’t even want to fuck you. That was new for me.”

“W-when,” Yuri said, stuttering a little as his cheeks heated up. “When did you decide you wanted to fuck me?”

Otabek looked up at him with hunger in his eyes, this time, running his hands down his own chest.

“You’re seventeenth birthday. I hadn’t seen you in months, and I came to Russia to celebrate with you, and all the sudden you were taller than me, you had broad shoulders, big hands. Your thighs were thicker, god, your ass.” Otabek covered his face against the memory. “And I knew that even if you wanted what I did, if you loved me like I loved you, I would still have to wait so long to touch you. And that was best case scenario.”

“Is this best case scenario?” the Russian asked, sliding his fingertips down the length of Beka’s throat.

“It’s a dream,” Otabek said, grabbing his hand and kissing his fingertips.

Their group of friends gradually filtered back in, Viktor and Katsu last, no doubt because Viktor just had to kiss him again. They took their places on the various pieces of furniture and floor again, sprawling with the effortless inelegance of the very intoxicated.

“Truth or Dare, Yurio,” Katsu said, his cheeks flushed and red, a little out of breath and sweaty, his shirt hanging unbuttoned on his shoulders.

“If you make him get up,” Otabek said, slurring around his words. “I will punch your face.” Yuri giggled, drunken and girlish.

“Well, that was unnecessary,” Katsu said, sounding put out, and Yuri didn’t even expend the effort to glare at him, focusing instead on bopping Beka’s nose without poking him in the eye.

“We can just do the truth part,” Sara compromised.

“That’s not a game, that’s just bonding,” Yuri complained.

“Yurio’s right, let’s do it!” Viktor said, his mouth doing that weird heart thing. He’d sat on the couch next to his husband, but no space existed between their sides, and the Russian had his arm hooked around the other man’s neck. Yuri huffed, but didn’t fight it. He just took another sip of whatever he was drinking, something strong and sweet, and squeezed Otabek’s fingers gently between his own.

“Fine, truth or truth,” Katsu said, rolling his eyes but smiling indulgently. “Yurio, who do you like living with more, Yakov and Lilia or me and Viktor?”

“Ugh, I guess you and Viktor, if I have to choose,” Yuri said with a massive shrug and a put upon scowl. With his inhibitions lowered, though, his expression got a little wistful. “I miss my grandpa, though.”

“How long did you live with him?” Phichit asked.

“Since I was seven,” Yuri said, a gentle smile on his face, thinking of how his grandpa saved him from his parents, took him into a home where he was taken care of and safe. “Until Lilia made me leave to live with her for my senior debut.”

“I remember that,” Mila said, from the other side of the room, where she was braiding Sara’s hair. “You were so angry. I thought it was because Viktor left.”

“That was part of it,” Yuri shrugged. “But mostly I missed grandpa.”

“Why stay with Viktor and me now? You could go back, if you wanted to.” Katsu looked sad as he asked, a line between his brows, holding Viktor’s hand tightly.

“He didn’t stay in St. Petersburg after I moved out. He never liked the city much,” Yuri said quietly, letting his hair fall in front of his face. “I didn’t ask him to stay, he didn’t want to. He’s old and I’m a bad kid, I think he’s happier now. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Yura, he loves you,” Otabek said from his lap, hand reaching up to brush his cheek.

“Loving someone doesn’t mean they’re good for you,” Yuri said, repeating the words his grandfather had said to him so many times about his mother.

“That’s deep, man,” Leo said, handing the Russian a shot. Yuri took it with a nod, swallowing it down and squeezing his eyes against the burn.

Yuri’s phone lit up with a Snapchat from Phichit. He looked from his phone to the boy, and he just smiled encouragingly, nodding back to the phone. Yuri opened the image to see a (slightly blurry) picture of him and Beka, Beka reaching up to cup his cheek, Yuri gently holding his head in his lap. There was a big, red, shakily-done heart drawn around them. If it was sent to make him feel better, it worked. Yuri took a screenshot and gave Phichit a very, very small smile, even if he rolled his eyes a little too.

“Okay, truth or truth Michele,” Sara said, lying on the floor with her feet in her brother’s lap, her head in Mila’s. She poked him in the cheek with her toe. “On a scale from one to you’re going to fuck Emil tonight, how gay are you?”

“What kind of scale is that?” Michele grumbled, blushing darkly and glaring at his sister.

“That’s not an answer,” Emil said, crawling towards him, nearly naked, rippling muscles on display.

“What am I supposed to say?” Michele asked, looking at the way Emil’s arms and back flexed as he prowled towards him.

“That you’ll let me kiss you again,” the Czech said, pressing his palm to the round firmness of Michele’s shoulder and easing him onto his back and crawling over him. Sara sucked her feet back into her chest with an enthusiastic squeal, watching the other skater flatten himself down over her brother.

“Go get it, Michele,” she cheered.

“Those siblings are way too close,” Yuri murmured to his boyfriend who laughed, perhaps too loudly for the late hour.

“New Truth or Truth,” Otabek declared, pushing up onto his elbows far enough to give Guang Hong a narrow eyed look. “Guang Hong, true or false, you blew Leo in the bathroom and that’s why your lips are all swollen.”

Guang Hong exclaimed something in Chinese that sounded bad, dropping his burning face into his hands. Leo just laughed and fell off the couch leaning forward to try to give Otabek a high five.

“Knew it,” Otabek said, collapsing back into Yuri’s lap and tipping his head back to look up at his partner. He played with the ends of his hair with his fingertips like a kitten. “Your mouth is gonna look so pretty,” he said quietly. “It already looks so good just after kissing.”

“Yeah, Beks?” Yuri said, leaning over him and letting his tongue touch his lips. “You like my mouth?” Beka just hummed happily and reeled him in by the hair wrapped around his fingers. They kissed, the Kazakh sliding his tongue up into the other boy’s mouth, sliding along the obscenely smooth inside of Yuri’s bottom lip.

“Otabek, I’ve got a Truth or Truth for you,” they heard, causing them to break apart and look towards the voice, calling from the couch. It was Katsudon again, who was absolutely abusing this not-game, petting his hand through Viktor’s silver hair and watching the other pair contemplatively.

“Yeah?” he asked, his words only slightly muddled by Yuri’s thumb tracing his lips.

“Why would you make Yurio kiss someone else?” he asked, his hand going unconsciously tight in his husband’s hair.

“I could never make Yura do anything he didn’t want to,” Otabek said, grabbing his partner’s hand from where it drifted around his face and neck, wrapping it in his own and holding it against his lips. “But I gave him the option of kissing someone who really wanted to kiss him.”

“True,” Seung-gil said from where he was slumped over the coffee table, another empty shot glass rolling away from his hand.

“But you two are dating now, right? Like boyfriends? Officially?” Katsu pushed.

“Yeah,” Otabek said with a lazy shrug, the “duh” implied but silent.

“So why would you want your boyfriend to kiss someone else?” Katsudon asked, being boring and traditional and concerned.

“I have kissed _a lot_ of people,” Otabek said, entranced by the shining green eyes above him, curtained with gold. “But after I kissed Yura I knew I would never want to kiss anyone else.” Viktor cooed so loudly that Chris jolted awake and flopped over before settling back to sleep. “But it didn’t seem fair for Yura to only kiss one person his whole life. So I gave him the opportunity to kiss someone who appreciates how beautiful he is.” He rolled his head enough to make eye contact with Seung-gil, whose face was half smushed against the table. “And someone who knows that I could kill him if he ever, _ever,_ tried something Yura or I didn’t like.”

“That’s so romantic,” Viktor said in a singsong voice, hugging Katsudon so tightly around his neck that his face went a little red.

“That’s so fucking hot,” Seung-gil whimpered, pressing the heel of his hand down into his lap.

“Yeah, it is,” Yuri said, agreeing to both, as he dipped down to press a hungry kiss to his mouth.

The couple pulled apart, however, when they heard a low moan fill the room, that didn’t come from either of them. They looked over to find Emil latched to Michele’s throat, the Italian’s nails digging into his back.

“Well, it’s gotten coupley enough for me,” Phichit said, gesturing to the now five couples tangled together around the living room. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Katsu said, setting down his drink and picking up his phone.

“It’s about time,” Guang Hong muttered under his breath, immediately standing up and pulling on his partner.

“You all know where you’re sleeping, right?” Leo said, moving slowly, too slowly for his boyfriend. “Calm down, babe, I’m moving.”

“Not fast enough.”

“Guang Hong, you’ve already come once tonight, what’s the hurry?” someone asked.

“No, _he_ has already come once tonight, I’m still waiting,” Guang Hong said, with drunken bravery keeping his voice steady.

“Baby, I am _the host_ ,” Leo stressed.

“Go, we can figure it out,” Mila said, waving them on.

“It’s a big house, there are plenty of rooms,” he called as he was pulled rapidly out of the room and up the stairs. The whole party heard it when their bedroom door slammed shut.

Otabek pulled himself to a seated position, slowly but with startling elegance for someone so drunk. Or maybe Yuri was just drunk enough to be easily impressed. He turned to face the blond, cupping his cheeks in his hands. He really seemed to like doing that. Yuri was going to have to make sure he took extra good care of his skin.

“You ready for bed?” he asked, but all Yuri heard was ‘ _Can I take you to bed?’_

All he could do was nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is sticking with me! Plz leave a comment and go read my other Otayuri fics. there is at least two more chapters to this, and then a series of (probably sexy) epilogues. so stay excited, and I love you.
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	6. That Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the journey continues, my friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how many chapters this thing will be. I hope you're all still enjoying.

“Yurio, can I talk to you before you go?” Katsu asked, and Yuri pulled himself, blushing, away from Otabek, following the other man into the kitchen without a fight. He thought passingly that he should’ve at least posed a token protest, but drunkenly, he’d obeyed without question.

“What do you want, Piggy?” he asked, downing the rest of his mixed drink and filling his cup with water to wash away the sugary taste. He looked at Katsu, watched his twisting his hands, shoulders curling in in an effort to protect himself from the awkwardness he was about to inflict.

“So I know that we’ve talked a lot about sex tonight.”

“Oh, god, please don’t do this.”

“And I know that you and Otabek might be a little… worked up?”

“Stop. Just stop.”

“But it’s important that you don’t do anything rash, especially because you’re still young and incredibly drunk.”

“Katsu, I swear to God. Stop.”

“And so it’s important to respect yourself and not change yourself for a boy.”

“Just kill me. Stop talking and then kill me.”

“I know that when Viktor first came to Hasetsu, all I wanted to do with put my mouth all over him.”

“This is too much, I’m a good person. I don’t deserve this.”

“But I knew that it wasn’t like me to throw myself at a man just because he had perfect abs and a bubbly ass.”

“I’m going to die. Right here.”

“And it’s not that I didn’t want to! He was hot, and naked all the time, and always trying to get into my bedroom. But I resisted.”

“I’ll throw up on you. I will do it.”

“Because it was important to me, to be _true to myself._ And not change myself for a sexually experienced, incredibly alluring man who promised me things I could never have even imagined. And did he deliver? Why yes, yes he did. Do I sometimes wish I hadn’t waited so long to get up on that? Yeah, sometimes. I think about all the weeks of amazing, like earth-shattering, sex I missed out on—”

“STOP!” Yuri screamed, finally, hands clamped over his ears.

“Everything okay in here?” Viktor asked, poking his head into the doorway, heart shaped smile on his face. Otabek appeared behind him with a much less forgiving expression.

“Everything’s fine, I’m just trying to talk to Yurio about sex.”

“Badly,” Yuri grumbled, ears still covered, but he could still hear the words echoing in his head. “We’re all too drunk for this.”

“It’s very important, Yurio, we’re just looking out for you.” Viktor’s expression was obnoxiously earnest.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m fine, I can make my own decisions,” Yuri complained, taking a much needed sip of water.

“Well, you’re not the only one involved in this decision anymore, are you?” Viktor said, making an incredibly unsubtle gesture to Otabek lurking behind him.

“I’m not going to pressure Yura,” the Kazakh said. Yuri could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes. “We’ll wait until he’s ready or he’s turned eighteen, whichever one comes second.” Katsudon and Viktor looked at Otabek appraisingly and nodded. Yuri found it incredibly uncomfortable how in sync they were.

“That is very mature of you, Altin,” Viktor praised him, patting him on the head in a way that was incredibly condescending, though it was no doubt meant to be kind. Otabek endured it with a blank expression.

“Can we just go to bed now?” Yuri asked, shifting his weight, apparently not too drunk not to feel embarrassment.

“Is that appropriate? Now that you’re dating?” Viktor said, side-eyeing Otabek still.

“We’ve slept in the same bed before, you idiot.”

“As long as you’re comfortable…” Viktor trailed off, with offending amounts of paternal concern.

“Shut up, I’m fine,” Yuri said, finishing his water cup and filling up a new one. When he stormed out of the room, he made sure to push Viktor and Katsu, each, maybe a little more gently then usually, maybe even like a one hand hug, just to make sure they were real, and really loved him and were on his side no matter what. Maybe all of those things, too. But mostly to show them that he wasn’t a baby anymore.

He took Otabek’s hand when it was offered, and followed him as he led them to the basement. Yuri’s steps felt exceptionally heavy as he headed down the stairs. They came to the main living area, marked by a plush couch and a pair of armchairs, a bathroom, and a door into a bedroom suite, that Yuri had left his stuff in. Hearing their arrival, Mila popped her head out and placed his bag outside the door. She winked.

“We won’t be too loud, the couch pulls out,” Mila said before promptly closing the door and flicking the lock.

“Why don’t you go to the bathroom and get ready for bed? I’ll set up the couch,” Otabek said, reeling him in to press a kiss against the side of his head, tapping his ass gently to propel him on.

Yuri walked, a little shakily now that he was on his own, but as he grabbed his bag and headed toward the bathroom, he realized how badly he really did have to piss. Swinging the door closed, he winced at the loud noise, realizing how incredibly late it was. He flattened his palm to the wall over the toilet and tilted his head back as he relieved himself, letting out a gusty sigh. You never really know how drunk you are until you go to the bathroom by yourself.

He washed his hands, then his face. He brushed his teeth, and then his hair. And then he looked at his pajamas, folded in his bag, packed thinking that he’d be staying with Beka, his best friend, who he loved and adored but definitely didn’t have to be sexy for. A fresh, soft, long sleeved shirt and pale blue joggers. But now Otabek was his boyfriend, and the love and adoration was now something he could act upon instead of just pushing down and ignoring. Did he have to try to be sexy now? Should he change in front of Otabek? Would that be weird? Or would it be weirder if he didn’t? Would changing into his pajamas say to Beka that all he wanted to do was go to bed? Did he want to do anything other than go to bed?

He took another sip of water, hoping to sober up enough to make a pajama-related decision. It didn’t work.

Eventually the discomfort of wearing skinny jeans for so many hours won out, and Yuri sat down on the toilet to struggle his big (and still growing) feet out of the insanely tight denim. He also took off his underwear, stuffing the bright pink cheetah print into the bottom of his bag, and bravely opted to go without, pulling the soft material of his joggers up his legs. He changed shirts, the sleeve long enough to cover his hands. He thought it might be one of Viktor’s. Since his growth spurt, it had been harder for him to find clothes that he liked that still fit him with the same, soft, effortless draping he preferred.

He opened the door and flung his bag to the side of the couch-turned-bed. Otabek was on the other side, digging through his own bag. He looked over when Yuri flopped down in the middle of the bed in a loose-limbed and drunken sprawl. He smiled, just in the corners of his mouth, and leaned over to press a chaste, dry kiss to his lips. Yuri brought a hand up to cup the back of his neck, squeezing lightly, but the Kazakh pulled away, grabbing his things and heading to the bathroom.

Yuri laid on the blankets and closed his eyes. Focusing on the weight of his body, he tried to settle the spinning of his head. This wasn’t the first time he and Beka had shared a bed, and he was grateful for the gentle calm of the other man.

His eyes blinked open when the bed shifted, his boyfriend crawling in without turning off the light. The blond turned onto his side, studying the other man’s face when he cupped his cool cheek. He’d changed into loose shorts and a dark tank top that left his round, muscled shouldered exposed.

“Do you feel okay? Have you been drinking water?” he asked. Yuri nodded along easily. “Do you think you’ll be sick?”

“No,” Yuri said, before considering. “Well, maybe tomorrow.” Otabek grinned at him, laughing quietly, the kind of laugh that was just for the two of them. “How are you so responsible? You’re just as drunk as me.”

“I’ve been handling my liquor for much longer than you, Yura,” the other boy replied, his grin drifting until it lived just in the corner of his mouth. The Russian wanted to kiss him. But he didn’t know what that would mean.

“What do we do now?” he asked, pillowing his head on one arm, his other hand settling between them on the blankets.

“What do you want to do?” he was asked in answer, frustrating him a little.

“I want to kiss you some more,” he said, scooting forward until they were closer.

“Then we can do that.” But he didn’t move, watching Yuri placidly as the younger boy waited to be kissed. Otabek quirked a brow at him and Yuri huffed, rolling his eyes but taking the hint. He shuffled closer, until their knees knocked, and he placed a steadying hand on his neck and leaned in.

The angle of their lips was awkward at first, but the soft push of his lips made Yuri sigh anyway, wriggling even closer and tilting his head, gradually pulling Otabek in with small, drugging kisses. He was timid about opening his mouth, unsure how to telegraph his intentions, so he opted instead for gently sucking Beka’s lip into his mouth, closing his teeth around it carefully and sliding his tongue across the plush softness there. The other man moaned, a quiet sound, vibrating under Yuri’s palm on his throat, and he rested a hand on his waist.

When he released his lip, Otabek’s mouth opened against his, allowing his tongue to slide inside, touching teasingly against his. Yuri slid his hand up the soft skin of his throat, to scrape his nails through the short hair at the back of his head, the heel of his hand settled into the hollow behind his partner ear, the posts of his earrings tickling against his skin.

Biting down on his lip produced a more active response from the other man, Beka flexing his arm around his waist, pulling him a little closer and titling his head to deepen the kiss. Yuri whimpered quietly, enjoying the taste of the older boy in his mouth. He flexed his hand in his own hair, his arm curled under his head to keep their mouths level, his own hand curled into his blond locks, tugging and twisting gently, humming at the sensation, emphasized by the drunk, floating feeling in his skull.

As Otabek kissed him more strongly, Yuri let his hand wander, his thumb brushing the razor edge of his jaw, moving with the kiss, before walking his fingers down to his shoulder, tracing the round ball of muscle there. He drifted back over his shoulder blade, flattening his palm against the bone, muscle flexing under his touch when he was pulled closer.

Caught up in the kiss, breath coming shorter, Yuri hooked his knee over his partner’s hip, a single flex of his leg bringing them completely flush. The slow, lazy swelling of his cock became much more urgent as he met the solid resistance of the muscle cording Otabek’s hipbone. The Russian groaned quietly into his mouth, and Otabek’s hand resting on his ribs slid up to press between his shoulder blades, forearm aligned with his spine, pulling their chests together. Their lips detached, Yuri rolling his hips, the movement gently bumping their foreheads together. Otabek inched his thigh forward and up, pressing between the other boy’s legs.

“More,” Yuri urged, heel hooking behind his partner’s knee, pushing his thigh up against his balls while grinding his cock closer into his hip. Otabek groaned into it, at being moved, so easily manipulated for his partner’s pleasure. He slid his hand down his spine and grabbed his ass, fitting perfectly against his palm. “Yeah.” Yuri moaned, going for another hard kiss. “Touch me.”

“Fuck, wait. Yura, stop,” Otabek moaned sadly, detangling himself enough to grab Yuri’s hip when he tried to follow. “We can’t do that.”

“C’mon, can’t we do _some stuff?_ ” Yuri asked, letting his mouth hang open, knowing it was probably red and bruised in the way his boyfriend said he liked.

“We’re not having sex,” Otabek said staunchly but not coldly as he caught his breath, his thumb brushing along the inch of exposed skin on Yuri’s hip.

“Can we do other stuff?” he asked, running his hand down over Beka’s chest and stomach, smirking at how his chest labored, as effected as he was.

“What do you mean other stuff?”

“Well, like, what is considered sex?” Yuri asked, meeting his eye despite the shy blush coloring his cheeks. “And can we do everything until that?” Otabek looked at him with a dark glint in his eye, a look that told him he’d just asked for trouble. The older boy wrapped his arm around his waist, yanking him back up onto his thigh, pressing them closer together. Yuri moaned, head falling back, at the pressure against his cock. Otabek ducked his head, whispering into his ear.

“Do you really think,” he began slowly, his voice quiet and deep and dangerous. “That if you rode my thigh until you came, biting my shoulder to stop from screaming, and I rolled you over and painted your stomach with my come, that that wouldn’t count as sex?” Yuri shook his head, conflicted, both hands gripping Otabek’s shoulders tightly. It was really hard to think; drunk, hard, pressed up against his boyfriend while he whispered filthy things in his ear. Otabek pushed him onto his back, just like he’d said, and plastered himself to his side, a fist in his hair keeping his head turned towards him. “If I let you lay here like this, and pull yourself off, and I only touched your hair and your chest, but I kissed you when you came, swallowing all the sounds you made, wouldn’t that still be sex?”

“Uh,” Yuri said, gasping a little, the front of his body feeling cold now that Otabek wasn’t pressed against him. “Yeah,” he said, eyes locking in the intense stare that Otabek wasn’t letting up on. “Yeah, that would be sex.”

“So we won’t do that,” Otabek said, relaxing his hand in his hair until he was just combing through the strands. “Sex isn’t about what you do,” he said, leaning in to let their lips brush again. “It’s about how you feel.”

“Right now, I feel like I really want to come,” Yuri grumbled, looking down from Otabek’s gaze, but he bumped their foreheads together, to let him know that he got it, that he felt the same way. Otabek let him, let him diffuse the situation, acknowledge the feelings without saying it out loud. He nudged their noses together.

“You can take care of that, you know,” he said, motioning towards the bathroom. But the thought of jerking off alone over the toilet didn’t hold a lot of appeal for him.

“No, I’m okay,” he said. The _I just want to stay here with you_ went unspoken, but he knew Otabek heard when he tipped his chin up carefully for a sweet kiss.

“You tired?” Beka asked against his mouth, after they’d laid still for several moments, hearts and bodies calming down. Yuri just hummed his answer, kissing him again, addicted to the softness of his lips. “Let me up, I’ll get the lights.” Yuri begrudgingly untangled himself, grumbling as he did so, before crawling under the covers. Walking carefully through the dark, the other boy slid under the blankets, held up for him by Yuri, who immediately wrapped him in his long limbs, pulling him close.

They kissed lazily for long minutes, the early hour of the morning and the alcohol diffusing through their blood making the time feel endless and every touch sensual. Otabek trailed his fingers through the Russian’s long hair, playing with the ends when he reached them before returning again to comb over his scalp. Every time Yuri broke away from a kiss, to just breathe in the quiet space between them, the tingling of his swollen lips and the brush of his boyfriend’s breath over his cheeks had him tilting his head in for more.

Eventually Otabek pulled away.

“I’m curious to see what you’re like in the morning,” he said, whispering into the dark space between them.

“You mean how hungover I’ll be?” Yuri asked, reaching his hand out to find the other boy’s face, fingertips landing on his chin and tracing the damp curve of his lip.

“No, although I think that will be fun, too,” Otabek said, pressing kisses to each of his fingertips. “I mean how you’ll be with me, sober. If you’ll be like Viktor and always want to be on me, or if you’ll be like Mila and only want small things to feel loved.”

Yuri’s heart surged a little. It was still hard to believe that this was his, that this sweet, dangerous man wanted him, however he could get him. Yuri grabbed him by the sides of the neck, both hands pulling him in for a hard, affirming kiss.

“It won’t be like either of those,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. “It’ll be just us. Whatever we want to be.” He kissed him again. “What do you like?”

“I like touching you. It doesn’t have to be a lot. I like touching your hair and holding your hand,” Otabek said, reaching to take one hand from his neck and folding it inside both of his, pressing his lips to the knuckles, bravely asking for what he needed. “I like kissing you,” he kissed him. “I like knowing you’re mine and I’m yours. That’s all I need.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

They fell into a peaceful silence, final, lingering kisses between their lips, before Yuri settled, tucking his head under Beka’s chin, one arm curled against his chest, the other draped over his boyfriend’s waist. The older boy pushed an arm under his head and let his other hand rest on his ribs, playing idly with the ends of his hair.

Yuri relaxed, boneless and suddenly absolutely exhausted. He had almost drifted off to sleep when the pair heard a noise. The basement door opened and dragging footsteps whispered their way down the stairs. It was too dark to see his features, but his silhouette was illuminated by the light from the main floor.

“Yuri? Otabek?” Seung-gil slurred, leaning heavily against the wall of the hallway. “Are you asleep?”

“Yes,” Yuri mumbled, burying his face into Otabek’s chest, embarrassed at being caught cuddling so aggressively.

“Did you mean it?” the Korean asked. “Did you mean it when you said no threesomes?”

Yuri’s head shook and he realized that Otabek was laughing, silently, burying his face in his blond hair. Yuri scowled, kicking him under the blankets. He looked at the other skater thoughtfully.

“Ask us again in a year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking there will be one more Otayuri chapter in this direct time stream, like the next morning, but there will also be epilogue chapters of Otayuri's first time, sexy times after, and then of course one year later. 
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	7. That Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, my friends, so here's how this is going to go! After this finally "story-line" chapter, I'm doing sexy one-shots for each the other couples and then sexy followups for Otayuri. Because I don't want to make a new fic just for all the porn, I'm just gonna keep adding chapters to this guy. I'll put the ships for each chapter in the summary, that way people who only want Leo/Guang Hong can just skip to chapter 8? Does that sound smart and reasonable to everyone? Let me know if you have a better idea.

Morning arrived with a vengeance.

He couldn’t actually tell what time it was, because there were no windows in the basement, but he woke up and just _knew_ that it was to early for him to exist. He groaned, throat croaking against great protest. His head pounded. His stomach felt like it was in pieces, and moving too suddenly would cause a terrible rearrangement.

He opened his eyes, just small slivers, and saw the room was still dark. He splayed out a hand, where they were both curled under his chin, as if in an effort to make himself small even in sleep. His palm flattened against the grooved musculature of Otabek’s stomach, stroking idly through the dark hair there, rocking his pulsing forehead against the cool softness of his tank top, rucked up to expose his lower stomach. He’d slid down the bed in his sleep, curling up in a tight ball around his riotous stomach. He was on his side, head on Otabek’s stomach, both knees pulled up and in so that one of Otabek’s thick thighs was draped over the sharp points of his legs. Yuri’s hand scratched through the hair leading down to the waistband of his shorts, looking for sensation that wasn’t the sickness of his body.

“Stop,” Otabek murmured sleepily, grabbing Yuri’s hand and pulling it up, to flattened on his stomach next to his face.

“Why?” Yuri whined, feeling sick and petulant and _sick_.

“Your face is a foot away from my dick,” he muttered, sleep making him blunter than usual. “Don’t tease me.”

“I wasn’t teasing,” Yuri huffed. “I’m sick.”

“You’re hungover,” Beka corrected shortly, though he did stretch his thumb out to brush the tip of his nose gently.

“Same thing.”

“No it’s not,” he argued. “Sick is something that you can’t control. You asked for a hangover.”

Yuri moaned piteously.

“You’re so mean.” Yuri bit him, fitting the rise of one ab into his mouth and digging in. The older boy groaned. Grabbing him roughly by his shoulders, Otabek hauled the Russian up the bed, twisting his one leg from over him to under. He settled him on his chest, letting his long legs fall between his, his head falling into the dip between his neck and shoulder.

“No biting,” the Kazakh said, eyes still closed, trying valiantly to go back to sleep.

“You like it when I bite you,” Yuri contested, though he wriggled until he was comfortable, closing his eyes and burying his face into the comforting, settling scent of his partner.

“Which is why you shouldn’t do it when I’m trying to sleep.” Yuri shrugged, conceding the point. He relaxed even further when Otabek dropped one hand onto his back, tracing lazy patterns up and down his spine. Yuri rested there, dozing lightly, trying to will his stomach to stop rolling.

Otabek drifted back to sleep, evidenced by the way his hand flopped limply off Yuri’s back and onto the mattress. Yuri nestled in deeper, pressing his face tightly against the other man, stubbornly trying to force his body to behave. And yet, still it revolted.

Yuri was hit with that sudden urgency you get when you know you’re about to throw up, that ringing alarm bell in your head that tells you it’s happening whether you like it or not. Yuri tried to get up gracefully, but the pounding in his head altered his usual balance and he jostled the bed and its other occupant as he scrambled out.

“Babe? Otabek asked sleepily, frowning with one eye open.

“Go back to sleep,” Yuri said, waving him off as he hastened to the bathroom. He swung the door shut behind him but didn’t have the time to lock it before he was retching into the toilet. He dropped to his knees, joints cracking loudly, one hand trying to keep his hair back as he retched. His eyes were streaming and on his next heave, some rerouted through his nose, leaving him sputtering for air.

It was seconds before the door was pushed open again behind him and big hands combed his hair back from his clammy forehead, holding it carefully out of the way. Otabek settled in behind him, legs on either side of him, much like they’d sat the night before. But this time, instead of leaning back into his chest, Yuri was bent forward, puking his guts out. Nonetheless, his partner rubbed soothing circles into his back, pressing kisses to the back of his neck when he had a reprieve from the heaving.

When he was done, done in the sense that his empty, if sore, stomach was settled and his head felt a little clearer, he ripped off a strip of toilet paper, blew his nose and wiped his face, before flushing and collapsing backwards into his partner’s waiting arms.

“Nggh,” he groaned, quietly and pitifully. Otabek just wrapped him up tightly, letting him turn sideways enough to bury his clammy forehead against the steady pulse in his throat.

“Feel better?”

“A little,” he admitted, curling one hand into the soft fabric of Otabek shirt. “Sorry I woke you up again.”

“Don’t be silly,” Otabek said, pressing a dry, warm kiss to his cold and sweaty temple. “I wasn’t going to let you be sick by yourself.”

“It’s gross,” Yuri complained.

“Good thing you’re pretty,” Otabek quipped at him, pressing another to the side of his head before gathering Yuri up in his arms and standing, heaving the boy up despite his lackluster protests. He set him down on the edge of the counter, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady. He reached with his other hand to fill up the water cup Yuri had left there the night before. “Here,” he said, nudging the blond away from him enough to drink.

He did, slow pulls that soothed his throat, even as he worried about providing his stomach with new ammunition. Otabek brushed his hair out of his face, cupping his cheek, gazing at him gently.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yuri groused, feeling anything other than worthy of the soft look in his partner’s eye.

“Even hungover and sick, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Yuri’s sallow cheeks flooded with blood as he blushed furiously. He ducked his head, looking away from his boyfriend.

“Oh my God, Beka,” he grumbled, embarrassed, incredibly embarrassed. “You’re the worst.” Otabek just chuckled complacently, hands holding his hips without any intention other than just stroking the bone and muscle. He kissed his cheek.

“Get used to it,” Otabek said, nuzzling his face into his shoulder. Yuri turned his head, one hand on Beka’s throat to guide him into a kiss. But his boyfriend reared back, dodging his kiss. “Brush your teeth, Yura. Then I’ll kiss you.”

Yuri’s face flushed with embarrassment again but he slid to his feet to do as he was asked. Otabek followed, grabbing his own toiletries bag. They brushed their teeth, side-by-side, Yuri hip checking his boyfriend when he poked at his ear with a wet finger. Spitting, rinsing and then wiping his mouth, Yuri crowded up against his partner’s side, rushing him through the rest of his routine, making Otabek laugh into the sink as he spit. Yuri grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around enough to kiss him, Otabek’s lips still cold and wet from water.

The kiss was insistent but sweet, Yuri smiling against his lips and wrapping his arms around the shorter boy’s shoulders. Otabek hummed into the kiss, letting their lips buzz against each other. When they pulled away, the older boy just grinned softly at him.

“How’s your head?” he asked, tugging on the tips of his hair, where they touched his hands, wrapped around his waist.

“Ugh, terrible,” Yuri said, dropping his forehead to his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You help, though.”

“Good,” Otabek said, arms tightening into a hug. “Wanna go upstairs? Get some pain killers, eat some food?”

“Later,” Yuri said. “I wanna lay down for a little first.” _With you_ wasn’t said but Otabek definitely heard it. They took turns using the bathroom, before returning to bed. Yuri went second, and when he emerged, fresh faced and having finished another cup of water, Otabek was already back in bed. He waited, one arm held open and extended for Yuri to fit against him. But Yuri did the same, flopping over him and lying on this back, making grabby hands at him. “Can you come cuddle me, this time?” he asked, lip poked out pitifully. Otabek looked at him kindly crawling across the bed after him. He let Yuri pull at him, seemingly content to lie whatever way his boyfriend wanted.

Yuri found that he liked it, liked the way Otabek would curl around him when he asked, pillowing his head on his shoulder, hand cupping the ribs on his other side, drawing ticklish patterns over his shirt.

“How’s this?” he asked, and the sound vibrated against the hand Yuri splayed against his back.

“This is good,” he replied, and buried his nose in the top of his head.

They laid there for a while, in the dark of the basement, for long minutes, blurring easily together in the space between them. Yuri liked the way the other man brought a calmness to his space, his breath, his life. He thought over all the times in their friendship in which they’d shared the same space, like sharing a bed at night or pressed tightly together in a booth at a restaurant. None of this they were doing was new, the ways in which they made space for each other around their bodies. The only thing that was new was the fact that Yuri now knew what the inside of his mouth felt like, that his dick had a ring in it, that he could make him come nearly from his voice alone, and that he would say sappy, beautiful things when they were alone.

That was enough for Yuri to feel like he was waking up into a whole new world.

Eventually, though, interlopers came to destroy his peace.

“Aw, look! They’re cuddling,” Mila cooed, coming out of the bedroom at the opposite end of the room. The light from the doorway illuminated enough of the room to see the boys tangled together.

“Mila, no,” Yuri said. “You’re too loud.”

“Oh no, is the baby hungover?” she cooed, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. She reached out to curl some hair behind his ear but he snatched her wrist out of the air and shoved her away.

“I’m not a baby,” he whimpered, but didn’t refute being hungover.

“Are you okay, Yurio?” Sara asked, appearing from the doorway, twisting her hair into a braid over on shoulder. “We thought we heard someone getting sick this morning.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yuri mumbled. “You cows just be imagining things.”

Mila and Otabek shared a knowing look before the women headed up the stairs, apparently in search of food. Unwilling not to get the last, petty word in, Mila flicked on the light on her way up, causing Yuri to groan at the assault on his eyes and poor, dehydrated brain.

It was only a few more moments before their phones dinged, buried somewhere in the bedclothes. Otabek sat up to fish them both out, handing Yuri his so they could each open the snapchats Mila had sent them. The picture was of most of their friends, gathered around the large kitchen table, heaps of pancakes and fresh fruit on every plate, and Viktor wearing an apron, waving a spatula.

“Hungry?” Otabek asked, praying his stomach wouldn’t growl and betray him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Yuri said, heaving himself up like going to eat delicious pancakes with his adopted family would physically injure him. Otabek followed, linking just their pinkies together as they climbed the stairs and appeared on the main floor. The light was bright and Yuri immediately regretted not grabbing a sweatshirt with a hood that he could pull up over his head. The crowd roared in greeting the pair, causing Yuri to turn around and attempt an escape, but Otabek was there to catch him and redirect him towards the table.

“Everyone shut up and be quiet. And then shut up again,” Yuri said, plopping down into the chair his partner directed him towards, between Guang Hong and Katsudon.

“How are you feeling, Yurio?” Katsu asked, immediately placing a hand on his forehead and then on his back, rubbing soothing circles that Yuri did not at all appreciate _at all_.

“He’s a little sick,” Otabek answered for him, sliding a single pancake onto a plate, with syrup but no butter, and plenty of fruit with extra strawberries. He put the plate in front of Yuri and handed him a fork and a knife to use.

“Thanks, Bek,” Yuri said, and his boyfriend cupped the back of his head and dropped a kiss into his hair. Plenty of people around the table cooed obnoxiously, but Katsu just gave him a fond smile and said, “Well I see you’re in good hands.”

Otabek gathered a small mountain of breakfast for himself and hip-checked Guang Hong out of his seat and into Leo’s lap so he could sit next to his boyfriend. Guang Hong put up token protest, but settled happily when Leo wrapped his arms around him and blew a raspberry into his neck.

“Did you like your breakfast, baby?” Leo asked him, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

“Yeah, Daddy,” Guang Hong said automatically, before clapping his hand over his mouth and looking at the wide-eyed expressions of all their friends around the table. Phichit legitimately screamed.

Otabek just smirked at them before sliding another pancake onto Yuri’s plate as he finished the first one, using the cover of the fuss over Guang Hong to press a secret kiss to his boyfriend’s syrup sticky lips.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Yuri grumbled, as the group around them continued to scream and shout about Guang Hong and Leo’s apparent Daddy kink, the younger boy’s face bright red and hiding in his boyfriend’s shoulder. Yuri felt a little bad for the Chinese boy, but he was happy for the attention to be on someone else’s sexual relationship, after all the revelations last night about his boyfriend.

“I like taking care of you,” said boyfriend admitted with a shrug. Yuri was reminded that he had two very young sisters, caretaking was something that came naturally to the other man, even if one might not have guessed as much. “Do you want me to stop?”

Yuri realized, pausing midbite as Otabek asked, that he would stop. If Yuri told him that it made him uncomfortable, Otabek would stop doing this thing that he loved, that was a natural expression of his love, for the sake of Yuri’s comfort. He thought that maybe that’s what a relationship was, making sacrifices and compromises, all the little things it takes to turn two lives into one. He wondered what he would have to give up, and he hoped it would be able to do it as gracefully as Beka was.

“No, I don’t mind,” he said. “Just don’t be so embarrassing.”

“Haven’t you noticed?” Beka asked quirking a brow at him. “I’m cool. I’ll never embarrass you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Yuri said, rolling his eyes, though he, himself, would identify Beka as the very definition of cool. Metal studding his ears, a neutral expression broken only for a sassy comment or a sharp smirk, the motorcycle and the leather and the DJing that spelled pure masculine energy. The sexual experience, the RAP sheet, the ability to go shot for shot with a Russian and a Swiss and come out on top. All these things made Otabek Altin seem like the quintessential bad boy, and it was all true.

But he was also the boy who made sure he ate breakfast, and who held Yuri’s hair when he got sick, and told him he loved him in eight different ways without saying it at all. He was the boy who watched all the Disney movies, even the new ones, and made friends with Yuri’s cat to make sure he was welcome and shook his grandfather’s hand.

He was a bad boy with a bad reputation and a heart of gold. And he was all Yuri’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you know what Leo and Guang Hong's chapter is going to be about. I wasn't subtle. So, fair warning for all those who are not into le Daddy Kink. 
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	8. Phone Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we begin checking things off Yuri's Never Have I Ever list

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends! It's been a while! I hope some of you guys are still with me, because here is an update! Organic chemistry failed in its terrible plot to murder me, and I live on to write another chapter. So, here you go, hope you're still along for the journey

Yuri collapsed back on his bed, exhausted. It hadn’t been that hard of a day, it was just Saturday. He didn’t have ice practice on Saturdays, just conditioning and ballet, so he truly had no cause to be so completely wiped out. He’d spent a long time in his yoga practice and drifted off into an impromptu nap in his savasana, and now his head was a little fuzzy with sleep. His legs felt better though. He’d done the flow Otabek had made for him, the one that was specifically designed to relax his sore legs and aching joints. Otabek swore it was what got him through the last of his growing pains.

Yuri snickered, remembering how he’d looked at Otabek with a quirked brow and asked, “You grew?”

Otabek had growled in faux anger, before tackling his taller, lankier boyfriend back onto his mat, covering his svelte body with his compact one, and quickly replacing his laughter with soft sighs.

Yuri sighed now, too, twisting sideways in his bed sheets to grab the bear Otabek had left him, nearly as big as he had been at fifteen. It wore a soft tshirt that still smelled like his partner. He drug it towards him and buried his face in its chest, imagining it was actually Otabek.

He missed him. More than he ever thought he would, more than he ever did before they started dating. He didn’t think it was possible, to miss him more than he had before, but then Otabek came to stay with him for a week in St. Petersburg, and Yuri became unforgivably attached to waking up next to him, and cooking meals with him, and working out side by side, teasing and pushing each other. All of those silly domestic spaces that he’d never before wanted to occupy with another person.

But Otabek fit so perfectly into life. He didn’t fill glaring holes, Yuri was happy before him, but instead he just slid smoothly into the space Yuri made for him. The space on the bed between Yuri and the wall. The second bar stool at the kitchen island. The empty space between Yuri’s legs.

Yuri groaned, feeling that space now, wishing to have Otabek back underneath him again, something warm and solid to push against. He shifted his hips enough to catch one of the teddy bear’s legs between his own, pining it down against the bed with his groin. He rocked his hips, groaning slightly as he thought about that wonderful, torturous week.

They’d spent so much time kissing and touching, but Otabek was always reminding him that they couldn’t go any further. Never had Yuri’s shower seen him jerk off quite so much.

“Two more months, Yura,” he would say, whispering gruffly into his ear with lips that were still damp from kissing him senseless, running soothing hands down his arms as Yuri shook and shuddered as he tried to reign in his arousal.

There were still some things he was nervous about. Things like being naked and being stretched and being fucked. But there were other things that he couldn’t stop thinking about. Things like Otabek’s hands clenching in his hair when he rocked his hips too hard, or when he tilted his head back when things felt too good, or when his thigh pressed tightly between his legs.

Yuri groaned against the bear, kicking his hips again as his dick hardened underneath him. He always got shivery when he thought of their first night together; Otabek’s arousal-roughened voice asking him if he really thought riding his thigh until he came wasn’t sex. He understood what the older boy was trying to tell him, but what really stuck in his mind, the very forefront of his mind, was the idea of fucking himself against his thigh. He thought about it now, as he pushed his dick against the soft fluff of his bear, legs clamping in to trap it firmly against him. He kept grinding, refusing to feel foolish for humping a bear, not when he buried his face in its shoulder and smelled the sharp, warm smell that was purely Otabek.

He had just started to sweat, skin pinkening and shirt sticking to his back and under his arms, when his laptop lit up bright blue, tinkling with an incoming Skype call.

When Yuri saw it was Otabek, he scrambled off of the bear, pushing it behind him as he grabbed the computer and pulled it closer as he answered the call. After a moment of static, Otabek’s face and shoulders filled his screen. Yuri sighed, relaxing with one arm under his head as he lay on his side, grinning at his boyfriend through the camera.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice cracked, still sounding a little like lust.

“You look hot, did you just get back from practice?” Otabek asked, smiling very softly in the corners of his mouths and in the slant of his brow.

“I’m always hot,” Yuri joked with a smirk. Otabek just hummed and glanced over his features again with appreciation. Yuri preened, dick twitching against the front of his leggings at the easy way Otabek’s gaze caught on his lips. He took a moment to look for himself, noticing with a sigh that the silver glint of his nipple rings showed from under his worn-thin tshirt. He slid his hand down his front and wrapped around himself, teasing through the fabric.

“You didn’t answer though, did practice really take that long?” Otabek asked, stretching his arms over his head, cracking his back with a series of audible pops that were inherently satisfying among athletes, and pulling his shirt tight against his stomach and chest. Yuri gasped as his dick pulsed under his hand, getting his leggings a little damp as he thought about fitting his mouth around those rings.

Otabek looked at him expectantly, head tilted slightly, and Yuri realized he was still waiting for an answer. He didn’t trust his voice though, so he just shook his head as he pushed his hand under the layers of fabric to wrap around his hot flesh. He squeezed around himself and shuddered, tilting his hot face into the soft skin of his arm, trying to keep one eye on Otabek.

“Yura, are you okay?” he asked, brows drawing in just enough to wrinkle the skin. He nodded, his open mouth catching on the knob of his elbow, lip dragging against the dry skin. The flexing of his arm as he stroked himself was becoming more obvious as he stopped trying to hide it. He looked back to Otabek’s face on his screen, and watched at his eyes widened in realization.

“Fuck, Yuri, are you touching yourself?” he asked, voice light with wonder and surprise. Yuri nodded again, moaning a little when Otabek shifted closer to the camera, eyes scraping over what he could see of his partner’s face and chest, staring at the corner of the screen as if he could force Yuri’s camera to follow his arm down between his legs. “Fuck,” he cursed again.

“I miss you,” Yuri said, twisting his hand over the head, watching the flexing of his own arm as he did so, finding the movement of the pale muscle strangely erotic, like he was letting Otabek see something filthy when he wasn’t showing him much at all.

“I miss you, too,” Otabek said, almost on autopilot, eyes still boring into the twisting tendons of his arm. Yuri’s breath hitched as it sped up, following the pace of his hand over him.

“You should take your shirt off,” he said, and he was right, his voice did sound scratchy and tight. Otabek’s hands twitched towards his neck, ready to obey, before he thought twice.

“I shouldn’t,” he said, hands disappearing from frame, but Yuri knew they were gripping his knees tightly.

“You should,” Yuri said, pushing up on his elbow a little, enough to rake his hair back, running his fingers through it to trap some of it at the base of his neck, pulling it off the sweat beading around his face. He was breathing hard, moving wetly through his own palm.

“Yuri, we can’t, we’re waiting,” Otabek cautioned. “Only one more month.” He sounded like he was begging.

“We’re not even in the same country,” Yuri panted. “Doesn’t count.”

“I don’t want to be miles apart the first time we come together,” Otabek said, looking conflicted as he watched the blush stain Yuri’s neck as it traveled down towards his chest.

“Then don’t come,” Yuri gasped, thinking of Otabek wanting to touch himself, probably hard in his shorts, just out of view of the camera. His toes clenched at the thought that Otabek couldn’t touch himself, he could only watch while he did. He grinned wickedly. “Don’t come, don’t touch yourself,” he sighed, dick spurting more precome into his hand. “Just me.”

“You are so selfish,” Otabek said, but his voice was breathy and awe-filled.

“Take your shirt off,” Yuri told him again. Otabek didn’t move.

“This is technically child pornography. I shouldn’t be watching this. I should hang up.” He moved as if he was gripping the sides of his laptop.

“Don’t,” Yuri said, suddenly urgent, cheeks blushing darker with embarrassment, worried that Otabek might end the call, shut his computer, and leave Yuri to come with no one on the other side. “Please,” he gasped, rolling more onto his stomach so he could really fuck himself into his fist, letting the side of his face press against his sheets.

Otabek groaned, frustrated, aroused, conflicted. He scraped both hands through his hair, fisting them in the long hair at the top of his head. It displayed his arms beautifully; swollen and defined from time in the gym, skin golden brown even in the low light of his apartment.

“Құдай, you look so good,” he said, almost too quiet for the microphone to pick up, and Yuri moaned at the sound of smoky Kazakh breaking into the run of familiar Russian.

“Otabek,” he choked out, about to ask for something, anything, a word or a hand or a kiss. But then he came, suddenly, catching whatever words might have been next out of his throat and jumbling them into an incomprehensible groan, turning to bury his face into his arm. He shuddered through the aftershocks, pushing his hips down into his fist, milking himself against the sheets. He groaned, feeling his body go boneless into the damp sheets underneath him. Breathing deep, shuddering breaths for a few, long minutes, he relaxed his cramping hand from its tangle in his own hair, wincing when strands tugged, stuck to his skin with sweat.

“Fuck, Yura,” Otabek said quietly, encouraging the blond to look back to the screen, blinking a few times to clear the spots from his vision. He focused lazily on his partner, covering his face with his palms as if the sight of him alone was too much to witness.

“Wow,” Yuri said dumbly, flexing his hands, still feeling the tingles of orgasm under his nails. “That was,” he trailed off, without words.

“That can’t happen again,” Otabek said, drawing his hands down his face, looking wrecked.

“Why not?” Yuri asked, not even summoning the energy to be petulant, just sliding off of the wet spot on his blankets and curling up around his laptop. He pulled his pillow towards him and got comfortable, tension running out of his body as he relaxed into post-orgasmic bliss.

“Because we are waiting for you to turn eighteen,” Otabek said, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he watched his boyfriend snuggle into his bed, looking warm and sated and glowing.

“Beka, I already think about you when I jerk off. Why is it so different looking at the real thing?” His messy hand rested in front of his face on the pillow and he brushed his come-dampened thumb against the swell of his bottom lip. Otabek tracked the motion with a molten gaze.

“Because I am _complicit_ now,” he complained. “I just watched child pornography!” Yuri snorted.

“That was nothing,” he said, endorphins making him brave. “You barely saw anything.”

“I just watched you come.” His voice caught, and Yuri noticed the high flags of red coloring his cheeks and the darkness of his eyes.

“Did you like it?” he asked, brushing pale hair out of his face with a slightly shaking hand.

“Fuck, kitten, are you kidding me?” Otabek asked urgently. “You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” Yuri’s cheeks stayed nice and pink with his blush. “But now you look like _that_ , come on your skin, pink and pretty. And I’m not _there with you_.” Otabek folded his hands together in front of his face like it hurt him. He huffed a frustrated laugh. “And I can’t even,” he said, gesturing at his lap, out of range of the laptop camera. Yuri chuckled at that.

“I mean, you could,” he said teasingly.

“I’m not going to,” Otabek said staunchly, reaching down to adjust himself, sucking in a breath as he did so.

“You could,” Yuri cajoled. “I’d want to see it,” his sleepy dick twitching slightly against his thigh. “Don’t you think of me?” He gazed at the screen with his most sultry stare.

“You know I do,” he murmured, gaze piercing. “Every time.”

“Do it for me now,” Yuri whined, pulling his knees up underneath him, letting his hand trail back to the leggings bunched at his thighs. “I could go again.” He thought of the picture he made, flushed face pressed to his bed sheets, back arching up out of shot, easily painting the picture of him with his ass in the air. He realized that Otabek didn’t know if he was wearing leggings or not.

“No, Yura,” Otabek said, with a desperate firmness. “I want to wait.”

Yuri pouted, lip poking out, hearing the seriousness in his voice. He wouldn’t be moved. He tugged his leggings back up over his hips before flopping back down onto the bed. He glared at his boyfriend on the screen

“Don’t look at me like that,” he sighed. “C’mon, kitten,” he said, knowing that that stupid nickname always made Yuri soften his edges. “In just a few weeks, you’ll be here.”

“I can’t wait,” Yuri said, feeling quiet literally that he couldn’t wait another month. He wanted to get on a plane right that second, wanted Otabek’s hands to be running through his hair, and his breath brushing across his neck.

“Only a couple more weeks,” he insisted again. “And then you’ll be here, and we’ll celebrate your birthday. Have you thought about what you wanted to do?”

He had. He’d thought about it a lot.

“I want what you said that first time,” he said, squirming a little in his bed.

“What do you mean?” Otabek asked, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. Yuri would’ve been mad if he was just trying to get him to say it.

“That first night, in Leo’s basement,” he began quietly, looking at his keyboard so he didn’t have to look at his boyfriend while he recounted his favorite fantasy. “You said I could rub off on you and then you’d come on my stomach.”

It was quiet for a beat too long, and when Yuri braved a look back to the screen, he saw Otabek with his hands clasped together again, resting his forehead against his knuckles. His face flamed, and not from arousal.

“Is that not what you want?” he asked, embarrassed that his voice was so timid.

“I meant,” his boyfriend began, voice cracking. “What did you want to do, in Almaty, for your birthday. I didn’t mean, what did you want to _do_.” Otabek looked like he was very close to exploding from sexual frustration.

“Oh,” Yuri replied, suitably embarrassed. “Well I don’t know. I haven’t really though about anything other than _that,_ you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Otabek answered with feeling, a sideways smirk on his face. Yuri grinned back, basking in the sight of his partner, just as eager for him as he was. “But that’s what you’ve been thinking about?” he asked, leaning forwards towards the camera again, his hair flopping adorably over his forehead before he smoothed it back again.

“Yeah,” Yuri admitted, closing his eyes and seeing it again, imagining Beka was there with him instead of miles away.

“I can’t wait,” he agreed, voice rough. Yuri smiled, peeking his eye open to see the flush staining his tan cheeks. “You tired, babe?” Beka murmured to him, looking like he wanted to reach right through the screen and run his hands over his hair. Yuri just nodded against the pillow, wishing he could. “You going to pass out every time you come?” he teased and Yuri laughed, blushing again.

“Not if you’re around to keep me occupied.” Beka grinned again.

“Soon,” he said, and it was a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Leave kudos if you're new, leave a comment if you've been with me this whole goddamn time :) Love you guys, you sustain me.
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	9. Happy Birthday!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri turns eighteen, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a lot of comments about this, so I figured I'd better explain. I'm from the US, and while the states vary individually, federally the age of consent is 18. That's something that I'm comfortable with and happy with. So if Kubo can write a Russia and Kazakhstan that doesn't hate gay people, I can write a Russia and Kazakhstan that has 18 as the age of consent. Because that's what I think should be the age of consent and this is fiction so I can make it do whatever I want, I'm like a god. Or an author, but whatever, you get the point. 
> 
> SO, because a lot of this story and the set up for it hinges on things like age and consent, I hope this clears things up for those of you, especially my fabulous international readers, who might've been confused.
> 
> Huge thank you to my new friend [ redteaatmidnight ](https://redteaatmidnight.tumblr.com/) who messaged me on tumblr just to say something nice and stayed while I conscripted them in fanfic advice. So thanks for that, this update is thanks to you, my friend!

This was the longest plane ride of his life.

Yuri was not unused to overscheduling himself. Since he was nine he’d been going from practice to practice, eating meals on the way and fitting in doctor’s appointments whenever his little body was pushed past the point of exhaustion. So when Viktor surprised him with a trip to Hasetsu right before his birthday, Yuri just changed his flight itinerary to leave from Japan instead. That way, he could see Mari, Yuuko and the girls, and still fly into Almaty the night before his birthday.

In his head, he imagined Otabek waiting for him at the gate, leather pants and motorcycle jacket, helmet pinned between his thickly muscled arm and his sexily cocked hip. He imagined the slow, hungry grin that would spread across his face as he saw Yuri emerge from the plane, hair perfectly plaited, in a carefully selected outfit of his tightest jeans and coolest crop top. He imagined sauntering into his space, tipping his chin up with a steady hand and kissing him passionately. He imagined wrapping his legs around his waist, threading his fingers through his hair. He imagined Otabek lowering him to the floor, grinding him into the grimy airport carpet, finally making him come, screaming and writhing under him.

Okay, so perhaps he didn’t expect all of that to _actually happen._ But it was still going to be sexy, and suave, and perfect. It was supposed to be perfect. Beka was supposed to be so seduced that he could barely keep his hands off him for the few minutes it took them to get home, or somewhere private. Yuri had planned on teasing him so much on the bike ride to the apartment that as soon as they arrived, Beka would just _destroy_ him.

Unfortunately, that’s not exactly how things were going. And it’s not even that he wasn’t used to airports, or travel. He was an international athlete, he’d been in plenty of airports. But he almost missed his connection flight in Nagoya. And then his connection in Seoul was delayed. After hours and hours of travel, Yuri was one very cranky, a little smelly, and incredibly sleepy eighteen year-old. With all the time zone changes, he had no idea when he officially turned eighteen, just that he had lived the longest day of his life. By the time the plane landed in Almaty, Yuri was in no shape to slide smoothly into Otabek’s space and plant an awe-inspiring kiss on him. Instead, when Yuri stumbled, bleary-eyed and exhausted, through customs, it was all he could do not to burst into tears the second Otabek’s arms wrapped around him.

“Hey, kitten,” Beka said quietly, his voice soft and calm and soothing, and exactly what Yuri needed after hours of stress and strangers. He whimpered, burying his face in Otabek’s neck as his arms held him tightly. It was times like this that he missed being short. Now, he was too tall to truly hide against his boyfriend’s chest. Instead, he just had to settle for hiding his face, and hoping his hair wasn’t too messy.

“Yuratchka,” was all Otabek said, but it sent chills down Yuri’s spine.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice rough and cracked from dry airplane air and the few hours of rest he’d managed to grab.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said lowly, his hands rubbing up and down the tense muscles of his back. Yuri nodded against him, sagging further into his grip. “C’mon, Yura, on your feet, let’s go get your bag.” Yuri straightened, his spine popping as pockets of tension finally snapped. “Let’s go,” Otabek said, drawing one of his hands down Yuri’s long arm to twine their fingers together.

“Wait,” he said, when Otabek turned to lead him towards the baggage carousel. “First, this.” He tugged on his hand until Otabek was back in his space, close enough for him to tilt his head into a gentle kiss. Otabek hummed into it, his free hand rising to brush stray hairs back behind Yuri’s ear, cupping his cheek as he kissed him sweetly. Yuri sucked his lip into his mouth, taking comfort in the soft and familiar feeling and smell of Otabek all around him.

“Feel better?” Otabek asked, pulling back with a slight grin.

“A little,” Yuri answered, delivering another swift kiss before Otabek turned to lead him out of the airport.

“Do you still want to send your stuff in the cab and ride home with me?” Otabek asked. He hefted Yuri’s cheetah print suitcase up off the rolling track. It was heavy, heavy enough for Otabek’s forearms to strain attractively.

“Yeah,” he said, staying close to his side.

“You could ride home in the cab,” Otabek offered. “You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“Drop dead gorgeous, you mean,” Yuri quipped, reflexively.

“Always,” Otabek agreed, reaching up to thumb his pale cheek affectionately. Yuri smiled, knowing that he probably had dark circles under his eyes and crusties in the corners, and plane-stench all over him, with greasy hair slipping out of his braid. But Beka didn’t look like he was humoring him. He was always honest with him.

As they made their way outside, Yuri wrapped himself tighter and tighter around his boyfriend’s back, pressing lazily, sleepy kisses into his neck and behind his ear, rubbing his nose and cheek into the short, soft hair at the back of his head. He let Beka do the adult things of hailing a cab, loading the luggage and giving the driver the address. He might have turned eighteen sometime in the last several hours, but when he was sleepy he was no better than a child. Otabek didn’t seem to mind, and he led him to the bike with gentle hands. When he handed him his cheetah print helmet, the older boy took another moment to eye him critically.

“You sure you can hold on?” he asked, swinging one leg over the bike in a move that was so practiced and smooth, it made Yuri’s already dry throat even drier.

“If you go slow,” Yuri said honestly, feeling a little shaky as he slid onto the bike behind him. He wrapped him up tightly, arms around his waist, thighs squeezing in around his hips and his head dropped against his shoulder. Otabek turned enough to press a kiss to the top of his helmet before kicking the bike into motion and starting an easy drive towards home.

When they got to his apartment building, Yuri collected his bag from the idling cab while Otabek properly locked up his motorcycle. They met again at the elevator, and the second the silver doors closed around them, Yuri dropped his bag and draped himself back over his partner. Otabek caught his chin in his hand and tilted their mouths together. Yuri sighed into it, relishing in the simple comfort of his taste and smell. The kiss was lazy and without heat or intention, just the reacquainting of tongues that had missed each other terribly.

Yuri pulled away with a pitiful moan when Otabek squeezed the back of his neck, sore and tired. He dropped his forehead to his shoulder when he continued to knead his muscle carefully.

“How long?” he asked, pressing a quick kiss to his ear.

“Nineteen hours,” Yuri groaned, straightening up reluctantly when the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, as he opened the door, key jangling in his hands.

“No,” Yuri said, stomach too tied up from stress and exhaustion to bother with food.

Otabek led him by the hand to the bedroom, closing the door behind them and setting his suitcase down against the wall. At the sight of his bed, bigger than Yuri’s at home and dressed in crisp blue sheets, Yuri remembered why he was here.

“Hey, c’mere,” he mumbled, drawing Otabek in with long, heavy limbs. He kissed him again, brow furrowing as he fought the cloudiness in his head to focus on the feeling of their tongues sliding together. He drug him toward the bed, tumbling down when his tired legs got tangled. He landed on his back on the bed, moaning in ecstasy. Not because he was was about to have sex, or even because he was hard. No, he moaned because the bed was _so goddamn comfortable._ Otabek laughed at him, like, directly into his mouth, before rolling to the side and laughing again.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he teased, patting the squishy mattress between them. Yuri growled, trying to find the energy to bristle at being made fun of.

“You should be kissing me, not laughing at me,” he groused, turning onto his side to reach for his boyfriend again.

“I can do both,” Otabek assured him, before doing exactly that, chuckling against his lips as Yuri wiggled closer to him.

“I’m not going to have sex with you if you keep making fun of me,” Yuri threatened, emptily.

“You’ll get over it by morning,” Otabek said with certainty, combing his fingers through the hair at the side of his head until they caught in the main body of his braid.

“If you don’t start impressing me, I might make you wait until morning,” Yuri said without heat, making the mistake of letting his eyes fall closed for too long, and now they were hard to open again.

“We should wait until tomorrow,” Otabek said simply, and Yuri was swamped with both relief and despair. The only thing he wanted more than to just go to sleep, was for Otabek to want him not to.

“We’ve been waiting for months,” he whined, sounding especially petulant and childish because he was tired.

“You almost fell asleep kissing me just now.”

“I was just resting my eyes,” Yuri defended, nipping at his chin.

“It’s after two in the morning here, which means its after five in Japan, and you’ve been traveling for nineteen hours. Go to sleep, kitten, you’ll need your energy for tomorrow.” Otabek softened his words with a kiss to his forehead, and a soothing hand rubbing over the tense muscles of his shoulders.

“But it’s my birthday,” Yuri murmured, already snuggling into the space under his partner’s chin.

“It will still be your birthday in the morning.”

It didn’t take long for Yuri to drop off into deep, exhausted sleep. Deep enough that he didn’t notice Otabek getting up and changing into more sleep appropriate clothes. He didn’t notice him slowly unlacing and pulling off his shoes, or turning out the lights. He didn’t notice the soft look he was given as Otabek gently pulled the blankets out from underneath him, or the way he carefully pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Viktor and Katsudon that he’d made it safely before plugging it in to charge.

He did notice, however, Otabek climbing back into bed with, and wrapping his arm around him. He shuffled closer in his sleep, chuffing absently as his partner’s talented fingers easily plucked apart his braid.

“Love you,” Yuri said, muffled with sleep but audible nonetheless. Otabek’s careful hands paused before gripping his boyfriend tightly, pulling him in close.

“I love you,” he whispered, his words too quiet to wake Yuri up enough to hear them. But if his dreams were any indication, he already knew.

 

 

 

The next thing Yuri was fully aware of was the dip of the bed as Otabek climbed back in next to him and the cold press of wet lips to his cheek. He mumbled some indistinct sound of wakefulness.

“Morning to you, too,” Otabek said with a smile in his voice, pressing a line of cool kisses down the curve of his jaw. Yuri opened his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers before he could focus on his partner, nipping behind his ear.

“What time is it?” he asked, voice rough from disuse.

“Still early,” Otabek said, his breath fresh and minty. “You can go back to sleep,” he said, but the hand sliding over the bare expanse of his stomach made that possibility unlikely. “Or,” he said lightly. “We could start celebrating.”

Yuri was suddenly very, very awake. And very, very aware of the fact that his dick was warm and plump in his jeans, and that it was his eighteenth birthday, and he’d flown halfway across a continent to have sex with his boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s do that,” he said hurriedly, sitting straight up in bed, causing said boyfriend to laugh slightly at his eagerness. Yuri didn’t bother glaring, though, he was too excited. “Let me just,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder to the bathroom. Otabek nodded, relaxed and reclined like a literal god in his sheets, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He reached forward and grabbed Yuri’s hand before he launched himself out of the bed.

“Take your time,” he said, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “We’re not in a hurry.”

“I am,” Yuri said, only half joking, grabbing him by the jaw to press a firm kiss to his lips before bounding out of bed to grab his toiletries bag and head to the bathroom.

He pissed, struggling out of his too tight jeans. Seriously, what was he thinking, wearing skin-tight denim on an international flight? Even without the delays, it would’ve still been torture. He had pink lines pressed into his hips and the insides of his thighs, and he rubbed at them with one hand as he brushed his teeth. He combed through his hair before quickly twisting it into a neat, loose braid. He knew Otabek liked it down, and he definitely knew that he liked it when he pulled on it, but it was a little greasy and had stopped smelling like strawberries hours ago. Still, he left it loose enough that Otabek could slide his fingers underneath it, were he so inclined.

He washed his face quickly before looking at himself in the mirror. He thought that maybe he looked a little ridiculous in a crop top and underwear, but there was no way he was going to squish himself back into his jeans just for Otabek to have to wrestle them off again. So he left them on the floor, and after a moment’s hesitation, he dropped the crop top to the ground too.

Leaning against the countertop, he slurped some water from the sink, a prickle of nerves taking root in his stomach. Otabek was on the other side of the door. In a bed. Waiting to have sex with him. There was a giddiness high in his chest, but the butterflies couldn’t completely dispel the anxiety just below.

What if he wasn’t good at it? It was never something he thought to worry about when Otabek was touching him, because he always seemed so into Yuri, so attracted to him and eager for him. But with a door between them and just a few moments to himself, he remembered all the experience Otabek had, and worried that he might not match up. It was his first time, what if it was clumsy? Or awkward, or over too soon? He was an athlete, so plenty of people had seen him in some state of undress over the years, but no one had seen him _naked_ since he was a kid. What if he wasn’t sexy? What if Otabek thought of someone else when they were together? What if he was way more into it that Beka was? That would be so embarrassing. What if Otabek wanted to do something that Yuri… wasn’t ready for? He knew that Otabek thought all kinds of sex were still sex, but there were some things Yuri was ready for and some things that still made him nervous.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was being ridiculous. This was the boy who wouldn’t have sex with him while he was drunk, or sleepy, or jet-lagged. This was the man who wouldn’t even touch himself when Yuri jerked himself off on camera for him. This was Otabek. Yuri had nothing to be afraid of.

With that thought, and his last ounce of bravery, Yuri flicked his braid forward over one shoulder, stepped out of his underwear, and pushed the door open. He leaned against the doorway, naked hips cocked, arms crossed casually over his chest, one hand playing absently with the end of his braid. He was the Ice Tiger of Russia, two time gold medalist at the Grand Prix. And he was about to get so laid.

Otabek was lying in bed still, playing on his phone. He looked over when the door opened and promptly dropped his phone on his face. Yuri snorted a laugh, nervousness ebbing away. Otabek didn’t seem to notice, however, and when he jerked up to seated, his phone plopped into the sheets, already forgotten.

“Come here,” he said, his voice already as rough as his eyes were dark, looking Yuri up and down like he wanted to eat him and couldn’t decide where to take his first bite. Yuri smirked, sauntering towards the bed with that hip-rolling walk that he would never admit to copying from Chris.

The moment he was in range, Otabek grabbed him by the arm and yanked him forward, puling on his laughing, flailing body until he was sprawled on his back next to him. He leaned over him, propped on an elbow and one hip, looking at the miles of pale skin laid out beside him. He didn’t kiss him though, not right away. Even when Yuri titled his chin up in invitation, Otabek just looked, letting his hand follow the path of his eyes, skating teasingly over his chest, his stomach, the bare curve of his hip. He slid his hand between his legs and traced the soft skin of his inner thigh, down to his knee, which he gripped, tugging upwards to make it bend, so he could continue his exploration down to the wide arch of his foot.

“So gorgeous,” he said before dragging his hand back up in a steady, long line. His fingertips dug into the slight softness of his thigh, the only place on his body that any baby fat still clung to, making them soft and pliable. And then he slid his palm up to cup his balls, pink and heavy where they hung between his spread legs.

“Ngh.” Yuri lost his breath at the first touch of another person’s hand to him. Otabek’s fingers curled gently in to tease the skin behind his balls and the plushness of his asscheeks before sliding his hand up to curl around his dick, rapidly swelling in his grip. “Oh,” Yuri moaned, hands coming up to fist in Otabek’s tank top, suddenly furious that he was already breathless and hard when Otabek wasn’t even naked yet. “Take your clothes off,” he demanded, already pulling up on his shirt.

“Shh,” Otabek said, eyes only for his cock, such a bright pink against his tan hand. “I’m not done looking at you yet.”

Yuri huffed at that, before wrapping his leg around his partner and pushing him onto his back, rising to straddle him. Otabek blinked up at him, looking honestly shocked and perhaps a little offended that Yuri’s pretty cock had been pulled from his hand.

“I said, take your clothes off,” Yuri ordered again, pulling at his tank top and finally getting it over his head.

It wasn’t that he forgot Otabek’s nipples were pierced, but more that he hadn’t fully realized how they would look. Bright silver balls were nestled right up against the brown buds of his nipples, glimmering in the thin, morning light. The second they were revealed, Yuri had to taste them. Dropping his mouth to one, Yuri slid his tongue over it, feeling the change in texture from metal to skin to metal. He rubbed his thumb over the other one, pressing down on the center to feel the metal bar just underneath. He moaned, tasting needles and danger, and switched over to mouth at the other.

Otabek was panting already, one hand threaded through the loops of Yuri’s braid, the other working with both his feet to get out of his shorts. He hissed when his dick got caught in the waistband, but kicked them off anyway, and when his dick sprang free, it drug a damp line up Yuri’s stomach, before smacking heavily against his own.

“Oh my god,” Yuri said, in awe, as he detached himself from the nipple in his mouth to look down at the cock thickening up below him. It was big, thick enough to completely cover the trail of hair that marked his stomach, and long enough that the head was perfectly aligned with his bellybutton. Yuri wanted to see him fill it with precome. Then he wanted to suck it out. “Wow,” he said, sitting back on Beka’s thighs, letting his fingertips brush curiously along his length. Otabek sucked in a pained sounding breath and Yuri looked up at him as he gently wrapped his fingertips around the head.

Otabek’s eyes were wide and dark, looking at Yuri like he was an angel and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to beg for mercy or corrupt him completely. Yuri imagined the picture he made. Straddling his partner’s thighs, mouth open and wet, flushed down to his throat. Yuri’s thumb found the bead of steel poking out of his slit. He held his gaze as he pressed down on it. Otabek groaned, back arching as his dick drooled precome to further slick the metal. His hands clenched where they’d landed on Yuri’s thighs. When Yuri released the pressure, watching the liquid slide over the metal, smearing onto his skin, Otabek took a shuddering breath.

“You’re a menace,” he panted, gazing at him dazedly, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck. “Come here and kiss me,” Immediately complying, Yuri very nearly collapsed forward and allowed himself to be pulled into a bruising kiss. Otabek’s other arm wrapped around his waist and tugged until Yuri shifted his knees out from under him, pressing their hips together.

“Fuck,” Yuri bit out, viciously, feeling the hot pressure of his partner’s dick, lined up with his own, damp against his skin. His hips jolted, sliding his cock against the thick length of his partner’s. “Oh my God, Beka,” he moaned, mouth falling open above him, hips moving without conscious thought. Otabek scraped his palms over his skin, seemingly wanting to touch him everywhere at once. He touched the backs of his thighs, where blond hair crinkled under his fingertips. He touched the small of his back, where his waist pulled in tight, feeling the muscles contracting as he fucked his hips in stuttering strokes. He touched the sides of his neck so he could hold him in a kiss, one that Yuri kept releasing shocked little moans into. He touched the swell of his ass, grabbing with both hands, directing him into a steady rhythm so he could grind up against him.

Yuri dropped to his elbows, his forehead knocking into the side of his partner’s neck. He groaned, brokenly, the pressure of Otabek’s cock against his more perfect than anything he’d ever felt before. Otabek’s hands on him, digging into his ass, his mouth sucking at his skin. He was starting to shake, tremors trailing from his clenched fists to his curling toes, making all his muscles in between quiver wildly. On especially perfect thrusts, the metal bead tucked just under the flare of Otabek’s cockhead would nudge deliciously against the slit of Yuri’s dick. On those thrusts, Yuri can’t even moan, or scream, he could barely breathe as his body lit up from the inside.

“Қарғы сатқыр, Yura,” Otabek cursed, growling in his ear. “You feel amazing.”

Yuri shivered, before pulling him back into a kiss. He unclenched his hands just enough to thread into Otabek’s hair, pushing his hips into his thrusts, and kissing him messily. He whimpered into his mouth, eyes squeezing shut against the weak morning light, painting Otabek in warm, golden tones, making the sweat beginning to sheen his brow glow and shine, making him look otherworldly. One of his hands, big and powerful, traced up the groove of his spine until it buried under his braid. He pulled, just harsh enough, to bring his ear to his mouth.

“You’re so good, Yura, so sexy,” he said, sounding breathless and amazed. “I love the way you move, so perfect.” Yuri’s skin felt suddenly three degrees hotter, keening at the praise and the tingle in his scalp.

“More,” he gasped, back curving as he pressed himself even harder against the undulating body below him, thighs beginning to burn from the effort.

“I’ve got you,” Otabek assured him, and he would’ve been annoyed by how in control he sounded if not for the hitching of his hips and the trembling of his fingers. “I’ll take care of you.” Yuri didn’t doubt him. Especially not when he drew his other hand between them, wrapping around Yuri’s cock, and squeezing tightly.

Yuri’s groan caught in his throat, coming out strangled and needy. Otabek thumbed over his weeping head and the pleasure was so immense and immediate that Yuri curled in around it, hips shoving forcefully into his grip as his forehead slammed painfully into the ridge of his collarbone .

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he panted, each iteration getting quieter and higher pitched. His hands released their grip in his hair, one folding around the back of his neck to hold him close, the other fisting in the pillows by his head. His toes curled into the sheets, scrabbling for leverage to fuck himself harder into that tight fist. Otabek’s hand in his hair pulled again, dragging him into a kiss, and Yuri sunk into it, feeling electricity tracing his veins.

“Can I?” he asked, moaning into his mouth. “I need to,” the plea was barely a whisper.

“Yes, fuck, Yura, do it, come on me,” Otabek said, pressing their foreheads together harshly before twisting his hand over the head of his cock. And he did, with a strangled cry, shooting come over Beka’s hand and his stomach and his big cock. Yuri buried his head in his shoulder and bit down, hard, to muffle the rest of his moans.

His skin felt alive and writhing, vibrations racing along every nerve as his body unloaded, muscles spasming in waves, feeling alternatively burning and freezing as he came, and came, teeth buried in flesh.

“Fuck, yeah, kitten, so good,” Otabek muttered, dropping his dick when his moans turned to whimpers. He slid his come-slick hand over his own cock, before rolling them over. Yuri’s iron grip on the pillow meant that it came with them, and the soft weight covered his head where it was still pressed to the sweaty skin of Otabek’s shoulder. He batted it away, sliding his cock into the groove of his partner’s hip, and thrusting down against him.

“You look so good when you come,” Otabek groaned in his ear, cupping his cheek with a come-streaked hand, staring down at his flushed face. “So fucking pretty, look at you.” He ran his hand over his neck, down his chest, restlessly dancing all over his skin.

Yuri was still breathless and shaking, the most intense orgasm of his life requiring some recovery time before he could properly operate his hands and legs. When he finally felt coordinated enough to kiss, he did that, catching Otabek’s grunts and huffs in a kiss that was far too sweet for how hungry he still was.

“Yura,” he moaned into his mouth, catching his lip in his teeth, one arm trapped underneath him, holding his shoulder, pulling him down into his thrusts, the other shifting restlessly over the skin of his side, hip and thigh.

“You close, Beka?” he asked, aware that his voice was scream-roughed and his lips were swollen and bruised. There was a wet spot on his cheek where his boyfriend had left a smear of his own come. “What do you need?” He ran his fingertips over his face, through his hair, down his back, touching him everywhere, just to prove he was real. Beka looked down at him with a look of awe and disbelief, as if he were thinking the same thing.

“Bite me,” he said, cock grinding faster against him. “I like it when you bite me.” So Yuri did, one hand grabbing a thick handful of that ridiculously firm ass, the other gripping his shoulder, pulling him in close so he could sink his teeth into the muscle just below his ear.

Feeling Otabek come against him was like nothing he’d ever experienced, rivaling even his own orgasm, and standing on the medal podium. The older boy thrust against him, hard enough to sting his skin, sending hot drops to splatter over him, like drops of wax, causing a rush of heat wherever they landed. He groaned, long and rough in the back of his throat, shuddering like leaves in a breeze. Yuri detached his teeth, kissing and lapping at the spot tenderly. Otabek hummed happily before sliding off to the side and lying down next to him.

“That was,” Yuri began, before stalling again, unable to think of any words other that “fuck” and “yes” and “Beka.” His partner his hummed again and nodded in agreement. “Beka,” he breathed, turning onto his side and pressing back into his space, dropping kisses wherever he could plant them, on his face, his shoulders, his hands as they reached out for him. “Just,” he tried again. “Fuck.”

“Indeed,” Otabek said, finally opening his eyes with a lazy smile, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, a smug look in his eye. Yuri kissed him in answer, long and drugging.

“Did you?” he asked, pulling away, forgetting to be nervous or embarrassed in his post-orgasmic haze. “Did I do okay?”

Otabek groaned and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him tightly against his chest, face buried in his hair.

“You’re a dream, Yura,” he whispered, into the private space behind his ear. “You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever had.”

Yuri preened, sliding his hands down his partner’s back as wrapped one leg up around his waist, wrapping him up completely.

“And that was only round one. Happy birthday to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had fun, the next part of this sex marathon is already in the works, so stay excited. Please leave a comment, it makes me so happy to read them. Seriously, opening my email to see a bunch of Ao3 notifications makes my day so infinitely better, so please keep them coming!
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	10. Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7,000 words of oral sex *jazz hands*

“How do you feel?” Otabek asked, after a couple moments of labored breathing, sweat cooling on skin.

“Like my toes are still vibrating,” Yuri admitted, flexing his fingers for good measure, too. He crinkled his nose as he looked down at his chest and stomach. “And like I’m covered in come.” He reached for the sheet, about to wipe himself off, before Otabek caught his hand.

“Let me,” he said, before kneeling over him and kissing the smear from his cheek before sliding his tongue over his skin.

“Oh my god, you freak,” Yuri panted encouragingly, one hand drifting up to rest in his hair as Beka lapped up every drop of come. He used his tongue to trace the streaks where come had rolled down over his hips and sides before catching in the sheets. He pressed kisses into small puddles before pressing his come-sticky lips to clean parts of Yuri’s stomach, just to have more to lick up.

“I just want to touch you everywhere,” Otabek confessed to the hollow of his sternum.

“Go ahead,” Yuri said, laughing, feeling out of his mind with giddiness and endorphins. He tossed his arm over his face, unable to watch as Otabek lipped at his skin, worshiping his body with hands and mouth.

He drew his mouth over his ribs, chuffing laughs escaping over his skin when Yuri twitched away, ticklish. He switched to using his teeth, nipping along the raised curve of his chest muscle, before sliding his tongue up over to flick over his flat, pink nipples. Yuri huffed, not used to the sensation, wet and hot on his soft skin. Otabek moved to his other nipple before mouthing his way back off his pec shelf, digging his teeth into his side, sucking hard enough to leave a red mark.

“Oh,” Yuri gasped. Otabek sucked harder, before popping his mouth off and pressing his thumb into the bruise left behind. “That’s good, I like that.” His mouth felt loose, probably from so much moaning, and his filter was overloaded enough with stimuli that he didn’t worry about sounding stupid.

“Have I never given you a hickey before?” Otabek asked, mouthing over the curve of his ticklish waist before finding a spot on his stomach that he wanted to mark up.

“Nuh uh,” Yuri answered, taking his arm away from his face to watch Otabek bite and suck at him. Otabek hummed around the flesh held between his teeth, and Yuri sighed helplessly at the sensation.

“Probably because I wouldn’t want to stop,” he said gruffly when he released him, thumbing away the excess spit before shifting back up Yuri’s body to push him flat and latch onto the skin just under his collarbone.

“Don’t.” Yuri’s arms came up to wrap around his back, crushing their bodies together. “Don’t stop.”

He felt the weight of Otabek’s cock lying along the outside curve of his thigh, slowly filling up again. Yuri whimpered when his partner released the skin of his chest, only to dig into his neck. Heat flushed through him, the skin of his throat especially tender and sensitive. His dick was nearly back to fully hard, and while he liked the warm, smooth skin of Otabek’s hip pressing against him, he couldn’t stop focusing on the hot, wet, suction of his mouth.

“Beka,” he panted, tugging at his hair, which only served to tighten his suction. “Fuck, Beka, I want you to suck me.”

“I am sucking you,” he teased, popping off his skin with an obscene sound, leaving the spot feeling hot, swollen and a little painful.

“Suck my dick,” Yuri said, halfway between demanding and begging, pushing his hips against Otabek’s thigh, hands petting restlessly over his back. Otabek pushed up on his elbows, looking down at him as he rocked his hips forward, giving Yuri more to push against. Yuri looked up at him with innocent looking doe-eyes, biting his lip. “It’s my birthday.”

A grin stole into the edges of Beka’s swollen lips, and he kissed him quickly.

“You don’t need to convince me,” he said against his lips before kissing him again, with plenty of tongue and teeth. When he pulled back, Yuri chased him with his mouth. He moved out of reach, slinking down his body again, and Yuri pulled his elbows underneath him, so he could watch.

The older boy revisited the red mark on his stomach, kissing it gently before settling on his stomach between Yuri’s legs, using his shoulders to knock them aside to make room for him. Yuri had a moment to be embarrassed that his legs were splayed open, feeling a little awkward as he didn’t know how to hold them. He stopped worrying about it, when Otabek set his mouth to the skin of his groin.

He’d shaved himself clean, feeling like that was probably the thing to do when you flew thousands of miles to get laid. And the way Otabek’s tongue drug lewdly across his bare skin made him really pleased with that choice. He fit his mouth around the base of his cock, wrapping his fingers loosely around the shaft. Yuri’s breath shuddered out of him with the first wave of hot air brushing up his dick.

“Please,” he asked, voice light, barely audible in the quiet morning air. Otabek smirked, open-mouthed and dangerous. He licked up to the head, before sweeping around the crown and pulling it into his mouth. “Fuck,” Yuri gasped, head thumping back against the pillow, both hands shooting down to tangle in Otabek’s hair, pushing rudely down on his head. Otabek allowed it good-naturedly, taking him deep, letting the spongy head press against his palette before sliding into his throat.

“Oh my god,” he moaned, curling in around Beka’s head in his lap, shoulders pulling up off the bed. “Holy fuck, that’s so good,” the words were wrung out of him by the tightness of his partner’s throat around the head of his cock as he swallowed. With a lung-crushing groan, he pressed his shoulders back into the bed and dug his heels in, fucking up into his mouth.

Otabek growled, wrapping his hands around Yuri’s hipbones and pinning him, with more effort than he had thought he’d need, to the bed. He pulled up to the tip and leveled him with a firm look.

“You can fuck my mouth later,” he said, voice already thick with spit, letting his mouth move against the flushed red, swollen skin of his glans. “Relax, for now. Just let me blow you.”

“Can’t,” Yuri whined, squirming in his grip, enough strength in his thighs and core to make holding him down a struggle that Otabek actively had to fight against, arms straining deliciously. “Please, Bek.” He fucked his hips up, pushing his dick against Otabek’s mouth, which curled into a snarl.

“ _Stop. Moving,_ ” he growled, releasing one hand from its white-knuckled grip to slide down his thigh. He grabbed him behind the knee and wrenched one leg up and to the side, opening him up and pinning his leg perpendicular to his waist, minimizing his leverage and making him easier to hold.

“Oh my _god,_ ” Yuri moaned, loud and desperate. Loud enough that someone on the other side of Otabek’s apartment banged on the wall. He tried to twitch his hips up and couldn’t. Instead, he just whimpered, writhing desperately when Otabek sunk his mouth back over him. “God, Beka, oh fuck, yes, yes,” he babbled, the slow, tight drag of his partner’s mouth making his whole awareness narrow to the hot clench of his throat. The Kazakh hummed, the vibrations pushing a scream up out of his throat, hands fisted cruelly in his hair, hips jerking uselessly where they were pinned.

Yuri couldn’t breathe. He was fairly sure all the air had been sucked out of the room, much like his soul was currently being expertly sucked from his body. And as his throat continued to contract around helpless whimpers and wheezes, sparks began flickering in his stomach. Those sparks coalesced into a wave of brain-searing fire and all too soon, Yuri came with a scream, scrambling at the sheets and contracting so strongly that some of his joints popped at the mistreatment. Any discomfort was washed away with waves of bliss, and Yuri lost awareness of anything that wasn’t the flood of endorphins crashing through his bloodstream.

He wasn’t fully aware of Otabek swallowing his come, cleaning is cock carefully with kittenish licks. He wasn’t fully aware of Otabek climbing back up his body to whisper praise into his ears or press damp kisses to his chest and neck. In fact, the next thing he was fully aware of was Otabek drawing his fingertip across the curve of his cheek, casually extracting a strand of hair that had gotten sucked into Yuri’s mouth on one of his gasping, desperate inhales. Many strands of hair had escaped his braid and lay around his head and over his flushed, sweat-dotted face. Otabek brushed them aside, gazing down at him like he was something miraculous.

“Hi,” he said, when Yuri’s eyes were finally able to focus on his face.

Yuri opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a dry whine, his throat clicking in thirsty protest. Otabek smiled, pressing a kiss to his parted lips before climbing back out of bed to rummage just out of sight. Not that Yuri possessed the faculties to pick his head up just yet. But then Otabek was back in bed, warm and soft at his side, handing him a water bottle. Yuri raised a shaky hand to grab the bottle, but when he went to twist off the cap, his hands were still too uncoordinated to open it.

“Here,” Otabek said with a laugh, taking it back and twisting it open with a crack. He handed it back and Yuri took long, greedy pulls, coughing slightly when some went down the wrong pipe, as he hadn’t made a single effort to sit up. When he drank enough for his throat to no longer feel like it had all the moisture of outer space, he handed the bottle back. Otabek took a few sips before setting it on the bedside table. Yuri just watched him, watching his throat work and feeling phantom cramps in his balls as he remembered violently unloading himself down that same throat. Otabek laid down next to him again, brushing his fingers back through his hair.

“You’re good for a man’s ego,” he said, thumbing over his parted lips. “You look like you just had a religious experience.”

“I’m pretty sure I did,” Yuri confessed, his voice sounding like it was made of a thousand pieces of shattered glass, fitted back together to look like a working window. So, essentially, exactly how he felt. “You have an amazing mouth.”

“Lots of practice,” Beka smirked at him. “Maybe I’ll teach you.”

“Please,” Yuri said, reaching up to grab his wrist, where his hand was still touching his face. He pressed a kiss to his thumb before drawing it in between his teeth.

He had just wrapped his tongue around the tip, when his stomach growled. Loudly. He suddenly remembered that it had been _hours_ since he’d last eaten. His cheeks colored but Otabek just chuckled at his embarrassment. He’d been doing that a lot in the last couple hours, laughing. Yuri thought he would look incredibly handsome with more laugh lines on his face. He promised to leave them there more often.

“I forgot to feed the tiger,” Otabek joked, pulling him into a chaste kiss.

“I thought you were just about to,” Yuri flirted, letting the spidery fingers of one hand draw down Otabek’s stomach, to wrap around where he was hard and waiting. Otabek sucked in a harsh breath, looking down at the pale hand wrapped around him with obvious lust. He pulled his hand away with great effort, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“I can wait a little longer,” he said, already sitting up, and drawing Yuri up, as well. “Lets get you something to eat. You’ll need your strength,” he promised wickedly.

“For what?” Yuri asked, stepping out of bed on legs that didn’t yet feel completely solid.

“Anything you want,” his partner said, wrapping his arms around his naked waist and kissing him again. Yuri didn’t know quite what was in store for him next, but if it ended anything like the rest of the morning had, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

 

 

Otabek led Yuri into his small kitchen, sitting him, still naked, at the small table by the window, looking out over seemingly all of Almaty. He looked out the window, amazed by the view. The sun had just separated from the edge of the mountains, shining over the buildings and dyeing everything in liquid gold. Yuri looked back to the kitchen, and thought that view was even better.

Otabek moved gracefully, a product of skating, and watching his naked body move fluidly in the morning light was like a work of art. Even simple things, like assembling breakfast, made the play of muscles rolling under his smooth skin an erotic experience. Yuri planted his elbow on the table and watched in awe. Otabek started humming something as he worked, occasionally looking at Yuri and smiling at him.

Yuri watched him work while taking stock of his body. He had expected to still be sore from sitting crunched up in an airplane seat for so long, but he wasn’t. Instead, he felt wrung out and refreshed, like the shuddering waves of orgasm worked his muscles enough to ease out the tension. He thought that maybe he’d feel older after turning eighteen and losing his virginity. He felt different, in a well-fucked, out-of-his-mind euphoric sense, but not truly any older. Just happier.

He gazed at Otabek while he thought, admiring the heavy swing of his cock between his legs. It was mostly soft again, but still long and thick, looking like it would fit perfectly in his mouth, just like that. Yuri thought that taking it in while soft like that would be nice, like holding something fragile and delicate in his hands, he’d have to be so gentle. And then as he grew, he would gradually press into his throat, until the blond could barely breathe.

“You’re drooling,” Otabek commented, and it wasn’t because of the plate he’d just set in front of him. Otabek set his own plate down before swinging his leg over Yuri’s lap and sitting himself on his thighs, pulling him into a tender kiss. Yuri’s dick twitched tiredly under his ass, but he knew he would still need a couple minutes before it would begin to fill again. Otabek kissed him slowly, cupping his face in his palms, seemingly in awe that Yuri was even here with him. “Happy birthday,” he said again when their lips parted. Yuri couldn’t say anything back that couldn’t be communicated in a kiss.

Eventually the smell of food had Yuri’s stomach growling again, and Otabek slid out of his lap into his own chair so they could eat. Yuri ate rapidly; suddenly aware of how hungry he’d been, downing several cups of water along the way. Beka didn’t seem to mind, he ate at his own pace, letting their knees rest together to keep a point of contact. It was a little chilly, sitting in the kitchen completely naked, and after Yuri had eaten all of his breakfast and part of his boyfriends, he realized that there were goosebumps covering his arms and that he smelled like day-old sweat and stale airplane air, overlaid with fresh sweat and come.

Yuri leaned back in his chair, full and a little embarrassed. Otabek didn’t seem to mind, simply standing up to collect their plates and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Yuri grimaced, just imagining how his hair must smell. His partner saw his crinkled nose and raised his brows.

“What?” he asked, looking over his shoulder as he padded towards the sink.

“I stink, I need to shower,” Yuri said, standing up and rubbing his elbow, suddenly self-conscious, standing naked in his partner’s kitchen, in a decidedly non-sexual context.

“That’s fine,” Otabek said from the sink, setting the dishes in and running the water. “You know where the bathroom is, there are towels in the cabinet.”

Yuri took a couple steps across the room, headed for the bedroom, when he realized Otabek wasn’t following.

“Um,” he began, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Are you not coming?” Otabek dropped a dish with a clatter.

“Do you want me to?”

“Obviously,” Yuri said, blushing delicately but still rolling his eyes. “It’s my birthday,” he reminded him again. “I’m not going to wash my own hair.” With that, he tossed his messy braid over his shoulder and sauntered (finally, he was able to use the sexy saunter to its best ability) towards the bathroom. Otabek shut off the sink and followed. At the edge of the tub, he wrapped his arms around his waist to pull him back against his chest. He pressed a line of kisses over his pale shoulder before sliding around him to turn on the water and fiddle with the temperature.

Yuri took the time to pluck apart his braid, mostly already falling apart from its rough treatment before. He dug out his special shampoo and conditioner from his bag on the sink and set them on the ledge, hip-checking Otabek when he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, grinning despite himself at the old argument. “They’re worth it.”

“They’re ridiculously expensive for soap,” Otabek said, like he always did.

“You like the way my hair smells,” Yuri challenged. “You’re always burying your face in it and breathing like a weirdo.” Otabek shrugged at that, having no possible defense. He definitely did that. Instead, he just held the curtain aside for Yuri.

Yuri stepped into the spray, and immediately relaxed under the water. He reached for the handle and turned it just a little hotter before turning and tipping his head back. Hot water raced over his scalp and he sighed with contentment. Though his eyes were closed, the hands sliding forward over his hips were not a surprise. Rather, they felt like they had always been meant to sit there. The lips against his throat were a little more shocking, but only in the best possible way, as Otabek sucked gently at the skin stretched tightly across his bent back neck. He groaned, a small sound that caught halfway in his throat, right where his partner’s lips were.

Gentle fingers slid up around his neck before combing into the hair at the back of his head, scratching and separating it enough so that all of his hair was saturated with water. Yuri hummed in pleasure, straightening his head back up and letting water drip down into his face as he found his partner’s lips again. Otabek kissed him leisurely before pulling away and swiping the water from his partner’s forehead. Yuri opened his eyes to find Otabek staring at him with wonder, tiny drops of water clinging to his eyelashes.

“Beautiful,” Otabek said, cupping his cheek gently, taking the words directly out of Yuri’s mouth. He turned and grabbed his shampoo. Yuri held out a hand for it but Otabek just shook his head and smirked.

“You don’t really have to wash my hair for me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I was joking.”

“I love your hair,” he said simply in response, pouring too much shampoo into his hands.

“If you insist,” Yuri said, allowing his partner’s soapy hands to slide over his temples and tilt his head back slightly. He closed his eyes and relaxed as Otabek massaged his scalp, taking care to keep product from dripping down his face and occasionally dropping kisses on his chest and cheeks.

“Lean back,” he directed after a minute or two of work. Yuri took over, batting his boyfriend’s hands away as he made sure his long hair was properly rinsed. He straightened up to see Otabek rubbing his sudsy hands through his own hair, in quick, brusque strokes that were a far cry from the delicate, generous work he’d treated Yuri to.

“If you’re not careful, your hair will fall out,” Yuri chided, putting his own long-fingered hands to work. He speared his fingers through the thick hair at the top of his head, and smiled when he felt his hair growing longer at the back. He’d suggested that to Beka before, growing out the back and keeping the sides short. His boyfriend had, correctly, called him out on the fact that he only suggested it because he wanted to see Otabek with a sloppy bun. But he appeared to be taking the advice anyway. Yuri scratched his nails along the shaved sides in reward.

“That’s nice,” Otabek said, letting his forehead rest on Yuri’s collarbone. He was so quick with his praise. Soft words dripping from his lips, things like ‘beautiful,’ ‘yeah, kitten, so good,’ ‘you’re a dream,’ all said without a moment of hesitation. They rolled off his tongue so easily and crept under Yuri’s skin with a fierce heat. He wondered if he knew, if he was doing it on purpose.

They switched places under the stream so Otabek could rinse and Yuri could grab his conditioner. He swept his hair over his shoulder and diligently worked the product into his ends before spreading it up along the length. Otabek groaned quietly in the back of his throat, but the sound was loud in the small space. Yuri looked up in surprise, and found Otabek staring at him with dark eyes and a small smile.

“That’s the smell I love,” he said, stepping back into to wrap his hands around Yuri’s hip points, poking his nose into his wet hair. “Strawberries and cream,” he hummed. “This is the smell I associate with you. I fucking love this smell.”

Yuri swallowed hard against the thought that that was a lot like saying that Otabek fucking loved _him._ He didn’t say it, but he thought it, and that idea made his toes tingle. He quickly twisted his hair up, snapping the hair tie from around his wrist over the makeshift bun to hold it up and away from the water.

“Well, then, here you go,” he said, his voice catching only slightly in his throat. He added more conditioner to his hands and worked through Otabek’s locks, looking inky black and curly when wet, really paying attention to how the scent bloomed in the tight, warm space.

“Thanks,” Otabek said cheekily, grabbing Yuri’s soap from behind up and starting to lather his hands.

“You know, for someone who makes fun of my stuff, you’re certainly using a lot of it,” Yuri commented, a fleeting selfish thought flickering through his mind that this bar of soap was a limited seasonal scent and that maybe he should be trying to save it. But then Otabek’s hands were back on him, soothing over his skin and heating him back up where he had gone cold from too much time out of the spray.

“Don’t worry,” Otabek said, nipping at the bruise on his neck. “I remember whose birthday it is.”

Yuri grinned at that, eyes closed, face tilted towards the ceiling as Otabek worked sudsy hands over his muscles. He thought he’d be more shy than this. The thought of being naked, on display for Otabek who was so gorgeously perfect and experienced, had made him squirm with nerves in the months leading up to this day. He’d taken to getting himself off with most of his clothes still on. But the second Otabek’s hands returned to his skin, all of those doubts had been brushed away. There was a reverence with which he touched him, a delicacy to his hands, as if he thought he were something holy and precious.

That reverence had him humming as Otabek swept his fingers along his back, working in aimless patterns and swirls. Yuri sagged against him, going boneless as he vividly remembered the many therapeutic massages Otabek would give him for sore muscles. Only, those had ended awkwardly when Yuri became painfully hard and Otabek would have to look pointedly away while he shuffled to the bathroom. Now, Yuri could freely lean against him, arching under his touch.

“Turn around,” Otabek said, nudging him carefully with hands returned to his hips. “Let me rub your back.” Yuri complied, bracing one hand against the tile in front of him as Otabek grabbed the soap again and re-lathered his hands. This time, when Yuri felt him sweep his hands over his back, it was with a determined pressure, wringing any lingering tension from his shoulders and neck. He dropped his head down, letting it hang heavy on his neck, and was glad that he’d knotted his hair up, otherwise it would be falling in thick, slick chunks around his face.

Otabek stepped in close, heat radiating off him and steam billowing from behind him. He worked his strong, capable hands into his back, cleansing, moisturizing and relaxing with each rub of his knuckles and fingertips.

“Is that good?” he asked, and Yuri remembered again how open Otabek was with his own praise.

“So good,” he answered, his throat catching a little as he tried to find words. “You’re really good at this.” His dick was starting to fill again and his skin was pink with blood wherever the hot water hit it.

“I’m glad,” Otabek said easily, drawing his hands down to rub over his lower back, causing some muscles in his hips to quiver with pleasure.

He was completely at ease, arching into Otabek’s touch, skin alive where his partner was breathing over it, his forehead resting on the nape of his neck. Perhaps he should’ve been prepared for it, but Yuri was so relaxed into the massage that it came as a genuine surprise when one of Otabek’s hands slid to his ass, his thumb stroking between his cheeks to press over his hole.

He wouldn’t call the noise he made a squeal. Maybe it was a yelp, or a shriek. Either way, it wasn’t particularly manly, and it might have been accompanied by a full-body flail as Yuri jerked away from the touch and nearly slid to his death in the soapy tub.

Otabek was laughing at him, but at least he was laughing while holding him up, one arm having wrapped around his waist when he started to fall.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hooking his chin over Yuri’s shoulder when he was stable on his feet again.

“I, um, I,” Yuri stuttered, acutely aware of where his boyfriend’s dick was poking him in the back of the thigh and there was soap running down his asscrack. “I’m not ready for that,” he said voice sounding strangled and scared. He was glad Otabek wasn’t looking at him, as his face was absolutely flaming from embarrassment.

“Okay,” Otabek said, after a few, tense moments of silence. “What part of that are you not ready for?”

Yuri thought that was fairly obvious, and, still prickly from embarrassment, he snapped at him.

“I don’t want you to fuck me yet, okay?” he said, his voice too sharp for the soft space between them. “Your dick is fucking huge.”

For nearly a full minute all Yuri heard was the pounding of his own heart and the water from the shower. Otabek’s hands on his waist were completely still. Finally, he spoke.

“I’m not trying to fuck you right now, Yura,” he said, his voice low and quiet in the steam. “I wouldn’t try to do that without talking to you about it.” And of course he wouldn’t. Yuri knew that. He dropped his head between his shoulders in shame, feeling guilty and on edge.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding small. “You scared me. I didn’t know what you were going to do.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Otabek said. “I shouldn’t have touched you there without asking. I got carried away. You just look so good, and you were pushing your ass back at me,” his voice got rough with arousal and Yuri felt his dick perk up again against his leg. “But I still shouldn’t have done that. I know better, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yuri said, feeling awkward now that they _weren’t_ looking at each other. It was quiet for another couple heartbeats, but this time Otabek’s hands brushed soothingly up and down his sides. “What, uh,” he started, clearing his throat. “What were you going to do? If you weren’t going to try to fuck me?”

“I was just going to touch you there,” Otabek said, turning his head in to lip at his neck again. “See what you liked, make you feel good.”

The way he spoke, his voice rumbling against his back, made him wonder. Made him curious.

“That would be okay,” he said quietly, timidly. He pushed his hips back again, curving his back like before.

“Are you sure?” Otabek asked, and Yuri’s face stayed red, annoyed with himself for freaking out over nothing. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I want to know what it feels like,” he said, putting his other hand flat against the tile. “Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he said, sounding a little breathless. He started high up on his back, rubbing gentle circles into his skin.

“That’s not my ass, Beka,” Yuri snarked, shaking said ass a little for added direction.

“I know,” he laughed gently. “But you’re still tense.” He massaged over his musculature feeling it release slowly under his fingertips. “And I don’t want you to spaz out and break something. Yakov and Viktor would never forgive me.”

“Don’t you dare bring them up while we’re naked,” Yuri groaned, but that pained groan of emotional anguish turned up on the end in a groan of surprise and pleasure, when Otabek’s hands fell down to massage the muscles of his ass. “Oh,” he said, pushing his hips back again. That was rather nice, he liked the way those strong fingers felt, pulling tension out of muscles often ignored.

“Is this okay?” Otabek asked, and Yuri could tell from the brush of his breath over his steam-damped skin that he was looking down, watching his hands move over pale skin.

“Yeah,” Yuri said, a little too eagerly. “Yeah, this is nice.” His breath drug a little in his throat. “You can keep going.”

The older boy groaned, and with a stream of soapy water, he ran his thumb down the same path as before. But this time, Yuri was ready for it. And this time, he moaned. Sparks shivered over his skin as Otabek’s thumb circled over his hole with a gentle pressure.

“Oh,” a shocked breath escaped his mouth.

“Yeah,” Otabek agreed, pressing more kisses to his neck and shoulder. “You like it?”

“It’s good,” Yuri said, closing his eyes, trying to focus on the foreign feeling, wondering why it had never felt like this for him before.

“What does it feel like?” Otabek asked, brushing his lips over his neck and the side of his face.

“Feels really good,” he said, not stopping his hips from twitching back into it. “Different, I don’t know.” He felt like he was babbling, like this couldn’t be sexy, but he also didn’t have the current brain capacity to try to be sexy. He was just trying not to be too loud. “Could you do it, um, a little harder?” Otabek exhaled a breathy ‘ _fuck_ ’ down the curve of his spine and pressed a little harder, in tighter circles. His other fingers dug into the flesh of his ass. His other hand joined them, spreading his cheeks apart. So he could watch. Yuri moaned, and clenched his ass, his hole fluttering against his partner’s thumb in a filthy kiss.

“Құдай, Yura, can I put my mouth on you?” Otabek asked, rubbing his forehead against the nape of his neck again.

“There?” Yuri gasped, head spinning.

“Yeah, please,” Otabek said, pressing sucking kisses down his spine, eager to follow the groove all the way to its base. “I promise, I can make you feel so good.”

“You think so?” Yuri asked, smirking to himself, reacting to the desperation in Otabek’s voice, wanting to know if he’ll beg for it.

“Don’t you trust me, kitten?” Otabek asked, nipping back up his spine to suck at his earlobe, stepping close enough to press himself bodily against his partner, making him put more of his weight on his hands against the wall, curving his spine. Otabek breathed into his ear, his thumb pressing against his hole, just on the edge of breaching it. “You remember what Leo said? At the party? I can do things with my tongue that will make you _scream_.”

“Oh my god,” Yuri moaned, sagging further against the wall. “Yeah, yes, please,” he begged, pushing his ass back on his partner’s hand. He didn’t know why he kept trying to get the upper hand here. There was no teasing Otabek, no impressing Otabek. All he could do was melt under his touch.

A crack resounded in the small space as Otabek dropped to his knees. Yuri focused on the ragged sound of his own breathing as Otabek spread his cheeks apart and started whispering nonsense praise against his skin. He couldn’t listen, not when his lust-roughened alone had him on the edge.

“Fuck, you look so good, your skin is so pale, your hole is so pink, so pretty,” he said, nearly drowned out by the water of the shower. He touched it with a fingertip, gently brushing over it. “Your hair is like gold,” he whispered and Yuri squirmed in his grip, feeling embarrassed, having not thought to shave there. “So fucking pretty,” Otabek breathed, his voice brushing over his skin, making him shiver. And then his mouth was on him, his tongue flickering over his hole in teasing little touches that kept the breath from Yuri’s lungs.

He felt Otabek’s hands curl around his hipbones and drag him backwards. He shuffled, his spine stretching long as Otabek pulled him back under the spray, washing the soap away from his ass. The water felt nearly burning on his sensitive, expectant skin. His partner guided him back towards the wall, out of the direction of the spray, before burying his face back into his now soap-free flesh. His tongue curled against his hole, circling and spiraling without pressing in. The sensations were so much more intense than his fingers had been, wetter and hotter and more fluid.

“Oh my God,” he moaned, loud and long, long like the stroke of Otabek’s tongue over his hole. “Hnng.” His tongue was swirling around him, gently insistent. “Fuck.” It pressed, just the tip, sliding around the pucker of his rim, delicate. “Oh, God, Beka.” He knew he was getting loud, too loud, but so was his partner, drawing back to gasp noisily and say “Yes, Yura,” with a voice that sounded like smoke, before pressing back in, burying his face in his partner’s ass.

“Can I put my tongue in you?” Otabek asked, sounding fucking filthy. Yuri could only moan brokenly and reach back to fist his hand in his hair, pushing back against him. Otabek reacted well to that, moaning and letting Yuri pull him in. The vibration rocketed up his spine, bouncing over his nerves, knocking another groan from between his gritted teeth. He was already so close. Otabek’s fingers curled around his hipbones as his tongue curled against his hole, pressing in. Yuri gasped when the wet muscle pushed inside, popping through the tight pucker to twist over his hot skin.

“Shit, Christ, fuck,” Yuri panted, thighs twitching with how fucking good it felt, toes curling against the tub, fingers clenching in his partner’s hair. Otabek pressed in deep, before flaring his tongue flat and wide, stretching his rim and pushing at his walls from the inside. Yuri screamed.

Head tossed back, gasping at the ceiling, Yuri thought for a second that he might be coming, untouched. But as the shockwaves from that, both pleasurable and painful, sizzled through his fingertips, he realized he was still achingly hard and that every muscle in his stomach was clenched and ready. His feet felt really far away, but they eventually listened when he tried to move them further apart, tilting his hips and pushing back into Otabek’s face as hard as he could. His partner seemed to approve. He moaned and let his bruising grip on his hips relax to stroke up and over his asscheeks, massaging them and alternatively pushing them against his face and spreading them wide again.

He did that thing again, pushing his tongue in long and straight before flattening it, pressing out on his walls. This time he twisted his head as he withdrew it, and Yuri honestly feared for his sanity, his head feeling like it was buzzing from oxygen deprivation.

“I need to come,” he panted, muscles he didn’t know he’d be using for this twitching and spasming in need. “I need to come right now, make me come, make me come, please, I need to come,” he babbled, feeling like he was about to lose his mind.

Beka groaned against him, into him, and Yuri shuddered some more. And then his teeth caught and drug over his rim at the same time one of his hands reached forward to wrap around his cock, and he came. He came so hard he tasted blood and his stomach felt like it was turning inside out and his knees phased into another plane and suddenly he was panting on the floor of the bathtub, worn out and whimpering with a sore spot on his jaw.

“Are you okay?” Otabek asked, pulling on one arm until he turned onto his back, long, coltish legs stretching out on either side of his kneeling partner.

“Ngh,” was his only possible reply, as he tried to coax words out of his brain after it was scrambled and burnt by a ridiculously forceful orgasm. He found he was having trouble flexing his fingers and looking down to see several dark hairs wrapped around the knuckles of one of his hands. He blinked dumbly at his partner, who was giving him a complicated sort of smile.

After giving him a moment longer to breathe, in which time his shoulders might have been shaking from barely controlled laughter, Otabek pulled him into his lap, closer to the spray, and carefully took down his hair. Wrapping one arm securely around his back, he gently tipped him back into the water, combing through his hair with the other hand, ensuring the strands were all properly rinsed. Yuri would’ve tried to help, instead of being treated like a child, but muscles in his core were still quivering and he couldn’t take a full breath without whimpering on the exhale yet.

Rinsing his own hair too quickly, Otabek shut off the water and wrapped his arms back around his partner, hauling them both up to their feet. He leaned him against the shower wall as he reached out for a towel. Armed with the softest, fluffiest towel he owned, Otabek set to work carefully drying his quivering partner. It was all very gentle and kind, and while Yuri knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the smirk on Beka’s face and the jump in his shoulders meant he was laughing at him, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel proud or embarrassed. That would come later. Right now, he felt shattered and empty and wanted very dearly to be hugged.

He reached for his boyfriend with grabby hands.

“Don’t,” he scolded him, pulling out of his grip. “I’m still wet.” He turned the now damp towel onto himself, hindered by the clutching hands he had to keep escaping, this time laughing aloud. “There, dry now,” he proclaimed, dropping the towel in a heap and letting Yuri wind him up in his arms, burying his face in his neck.

They stood for a moment longer, Yuri’s body still trembling with aftershocks and the cold. It was only after Yuri had calmed down a little more that he noticed his partner’s cock was pressed against his thigh, hard and heavy, and he remembered that he had come twice more this morning than Otabek had.

“Can we go back to bed?” he asked, letting his lips drag over the shell of his ear.

“Sure, kitten,” he agreed easily, holding his hands as he stepped shakily out of the tub. “You tired?”

“No,” Yuri said, though actually he was a little, already. “I just want to do that to you.” Otabek’s stepped stuttered and Yuri saw his dick twitch with interest.

“Which part?” he asked, swallowing hard as they reached the edge of the bed again.

“All of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment telling me what your favorite part was
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	11. Round Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in large part in screams and emojis with the lovely [ seaworn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/pseuds/seaworn) , or as she's known on tumblr, [ otabottom ](https://otabottom.tumblr.com/)

“Lay down, it’s my turn,” Yuri said as he nudged him toward the bed, brusquely drying his hair with the towel. Otabek just rolled his eyes, looking far too relaxed for someone with an erection that had yet to be tended to. Nonetheless, he did as he was told, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching Yuri attack his hair. He had just started to wind it back into a braid, for practicality’s sake, when Otabek leaned forward to capture his hands.

“Leave it down,” he said gently, gently enough that Yuri didn’t feel the need to bristle at being told what to do.

“It’s wet,” Yuri cautioned him.

“Thanks, I noticed.”

“It’ll be cold.” Yuri complained

“I’ll keep you warm,” he promised, a dangerous gleam in his eye as he drew Yuri into him. He went easily, letting himself be pulled in close to stand between his partner’s knees. His legs were still shaking so he leaned gratefully into the kiss that followed, even though the bed was low to the ground. Otabek stroked gentle, unhurried fingers up the curled length of his back, stooped so their lips could touch. Yuri stepped in close enough to feel his hard cock poke at his leg. He reached down and wrapped his fist around it, stroking it exploratorily. Otabek sucked in a rapid breath and kissed him a little harder, one hand holding onto Yuri’s neck and pulling him farther down.

“Lay back,” Yuri directed, pushing at his shoulders and crawling up after him. Otabek scooted himself back, until he was sprawled in the center of the bed, his wet hair leaving marks on the disarrayed pillows. Yuri stalked after him, crawling over him on hands and knees, eager to finally get his hands on him. He wanted to touch him everywhere.

Their first time was a blur and over too quickly. Yuri had just started to play with his nipples, pierced and perfect, before he was distracted by his cock, which he barely had time to introduce himself to. In fact, Yuri didn’t really participate in making him come, at all. He’d mostly just laid there, overwhelmed and come-drunk, while Otabek got off against him. He could do better, he knew he could.

He’d gotten to gawk at him in the kitchen, admiring the dusky gold lines of his figure, ink splayed indecently over his skin. But he hadn’t really gotten to _explore_. Not like Otabek had at the very beginning, tracing along all the places he was softest, saying in that awestruck voice “ _I’m not done looking at you yet.”_ And then in the shower, taking his time to rub his hands through his hair, over his chest, into his back, all the way to his ass.

It was Yuri’s turn. He wanted to know exactly what his partner felt like under the press of his fingertips. He wanted to memorize his every shade.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Yuri said, his voice sounding rough and alien to his own ears as he knelt over his thighs. In response, Otabek merely smirked and flexed his chest. His eyes tracked over every ripple and curve under Otabek’s skin, catching on the ridging of muscle wrapping around his sides, wrapping forward from under the wide wings of his shoulder blades.

Etched into the skin of his ribs, the Nike of Samothrace stood out in startling realism. He had been told she was the goddess of victory, and he felt as if he could taste her on his skin. He touched him carefully, not wanting to miss a single twitch or sigh. Yuri walked his fingers up his sides to feel the softness of his skin, before stroking back down with the flat of his hands to press and squeeze the muscle just beneath.

“C’mere and kiss me,” Otabek said, which was what he said the last time, which led to Yuri getting terribly distracted. But Yuri’s cock was still soft and tired between his thighs, not even twitching yet, it was so wrung out. He had time before his own arousal claimed his attention again. So he laid out over his boyfriend, covering him as much as he could and kissing him firmly. Otabek held his head with one hand, guiding him in the kiss, while the other looped lazily around his waist, as if he was in no hurry at all.

Yuri used one hand to cup his jaw and tip it up, trailing his kisses underneath. He found the bite mark riding high on his neck, the impression of his teeth left behind on his skin. He kissed it firmly, wondering if it was sore. The sharp inhale rushing over his shoulder would indicate that it was. He slid his lips down over his neck, pushing up harder on his jaw to arch it back, putting the muscles roping the side and the ridged cartilage of his trachea on stark display. He fit his mouth over each piece, testing it with his teeth and sucking lightly just to hear his boyfriend sigh.

He continued his exploration to his shoulders. Otabek’s shoulders were such a marvel to him. Even though he was a short man, with a narrow waist and beautiful features, his shoulders were broad and well muscled, cultivated from long hours of work, lean and functional by necessity. They screamed masculinity, wide and strong, even on his small frame. Even when Yuri’s chest filled out with muscle, his shoulders stayed slight and narrow, and Yuri selfishly loved still being smaller than his partner in that respect. He opened his mouth around his collarbones, feeling goosebumps bloom under his tongue as he scratched his fingernails just under his armpits.

He followed the muscle rounding out the ball of his shoulder, gripping his wrist with one hand to bend his arm. He trailed his tongue over the definition of his bicep, far stronger and thicker than his own. He lipped his way through the soft valley of his elbow to nip across the hard, sinuous length of his forearm, tight and veined from yoga and lifting. Yuri flattened his tongue to his wrist and felt his heart beat.

In a sudden jolt of embarrassment, Yuri realized that he was slobbering all over his boyfriend’s arm. In what was probably a very virginal, non-sexy way. He straightened up, his hand still holding Otabek’s, his thumb pressing into the calloused skin of his palm. He looked nervously at Otabek.

Shining with spit, Otabek’s bottom lip was swollen and red, like he’d been digging his teeth into it. His eyes were dark and wide and his cheeks were rosed with heat, and he was looking up at him exactly like when Yuri had first flipped him onto his back and demanded he get naked. He looked like he liked it. Testing his luck, Yuri drew his hand towards his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he clumsy took two fingers between his lips.

He traced his tongue over the callouses marking his fingers, the thickness of his knuckles and the neat, square nails. He slid his lips to the bottom knuckles, letting his fingertips fit over the meat of his tongue, and Otabek groaned. It was a hungry, desperate little sound, caught halfway through his throat, his lip taking up the space between his teeth again. His fingers flexed, and Yuri felt it in the ripple under his fingertips where he held his hand just moments before the pads of his fingers pressed down on his tongue. He didn’t know exactly what Otabek wanted him to do, but he did what felt natural. He sucked, hard, and pushing back on those fingers with his tongue.

This time, Otabek moaned. It wasn’t a groan, there was nothing dignified or manly about it. It was a broken, starving sound, like Yuri was injuring him terribly. He grinned. Holding his fingers in his mouth with his teeth, he grinned, looking feylike and dangerous. Otabek shuddered underneath him. Actually _shuddered_. Yuri _did that_. He felt a strange sort of power, sitting astride another man, his breath catching, his hard cock dripping onto his stomach, all because of him.

That thought brought Yuri’s attention back to his cock. He let his fingers slip from his lips as he scooted down the bed, placing distracted kisses wherever he felt like they were needed. Which, honestly, was everywhere, but he was trying to be conservative. He had eyes only for the slick dripping from the head of Otabek’s dick, leaving a sticky little puddle on his stomach, most of it trailing into his navel. It looked sticky and shiny on his skin, and Yuri didn’t have a real plan, he just needed to taste it.

With his knees planted on either side of Otabek’s, he leaned down, letting one hand wrap loosely around his dick, shifting it slightly to the side to he could lick over his skin. The flavor was salty, but not nearly as bitter as he’d expected, and thicker on his tongue. Otabek’s stomach quivered under his touch. He fit his mouth over the hollow of his belly button and sucked, swirling his tongue in to get it all. Otabek moaned again, one hand coming up to rest on his head, the other gripping the hand he had brace against his side.

Yuri looked up, letting his bottom lip drag across his skin as he did so, and found Otabek gasping down at him. He quirked one side of his mouth up into a loose, open smile before directing the head of his cock under his mouth again. He pressed a kiss to the crown and huffed a quick laugh when Otabek slammed his head back into the bed with a groan.

He turned back to the task at hand, sitting up a little more to release some pressure on his back. He tilted his cock up towards his mouth, stroking it lightly around the base. An experimental lick over the tip told him that the metal protruding from his slit was skin-warm and wet. He pursed his lips over the tip in a kiss, sucking lightly on the metal bead, feeling the post shift towards him. Otabek cursed raggedly. Yuri did it again, this time making the kiss open and dirty, sliding his lips over the crown of his cock before narrowing onto the bead, pressing on the other side with his thumb, pushing the post through the sensitive channel.

“Құдай, иә,” Otabek murmured, the hand in his hair trembling. “ғажайып, сондықтан жақсы.”

The inflection sounded positive, so Yuri didn’t worry that he didn’t understand the words. He figured if Otabek wanted him to stop, he’d make sure he knew it. He pushed his mouth down over his cock, taking more in, and nudging the metal ball down into Otabek’s slit as he went. He let his tongue explore, learning the shape of his cockhead in his mouth, testing the ways to cover his teeth. When he slid his mouth slowly back up, sucking on the hot flesh, he felt the barbell shift with him. Groaning around his mouthful, he was overwhelmed by the realization that he was stroking Otabek’s cock from the outside and the inside, guiding the barbell through the center as he sucked and licked at him.

Not knowing if he should close his eyes or not, Yuri watched the play of muscles underneath Otabek’s golden skin, watching his abs clench and tense as he groaned. Yuri thought that was probably a strong indicator that he was doing okay. He laid one hand over Beka’s flexing abs, feeling them twitch under his palm, making him moan again, this time accidently letting the crown of his head vibrate against his teeth. Otabek seemed to like that though, if the harsh gasp and the strong arch of his neck were good signs. Still, Yuri tried not to let it happen again, covering his teeth with his lips at the front, and trying to avoid his molars when he pushed down over him.

He stroked the rest with his other hand and was dismayed to find that he was fitting less than half into his mouth. He could do better, he was sure. He was a gold medalist at the Grand Prix. He was exceptional. So obviously, he could suck an exceptional dick. Exceptionally.

Shifting his knees under him, he sunk down again, this time pushing past where the point where before he would’ve bobbed back up. Instinctively, he felt his throat close and his tongue push up against the head, his body trying to push it out. He didn’t let up, and quickly felt thick spit rolling over his fingers, slicking the rest of his shaft. He gagged, and it was loud and sloppy sounding in the quiet room.

He didn’t have time to be embarrassed, though, not when Otabek’s gentle hand started petting restlessly over his head, encouraging him, groaning at all the sounds he made.

“Fuck, yes, Yura,” he said, in Russian again, thankfully. “It’s okay to choke a little, you’re doing so well.” He was out of breath and his throat was shining with light sweat. Choke on my dick, kitten.”

Yuri did, again and again, cheeks burning from listening to himself. He built a rhythm, and Otabek’s panting grunts and groans played a delicious harmony. Otabek’s careful hand threaded through his hair, and on one of Yuri’s downward thrusts, pushing even harder against the stubborn value of his throat, he clenched his fist. Prickles of pain spread over his scalp and Yuri moaned, allowing his throat to open just a little. Instead of pressing against the soft closure, the head of Otabek’s cock dipped into his throat, hot and tight and squeezing.

Yuri pulled back immediately, coughing and gasping, but kept stroking his other hand over his wet shaft, his hand moving quickly to make up for his coughs. Beka didn’t seem to mind, already on the edge, his legs shifting under Yuri, heels pushing into the bed, his stomach tight and hard from the effort of not fucking up into his grip.

“So good, so good,” his partner mumbled, his chin making a steep climb towards the ceiling as he pushed his head back into the pillows. “I’m so close, just pull me off. Right like this, please Yura.”

Grateful for a break to catch his breath, Yuri leaned down to rest his cheek on his hipbone, watching in awe as precome spilled from his slit, helping slick his already soaking cock as it moved through his hand. It was a thing of beauty, Yuri decided, one that he never wanted to let go of. Feeling brave, he shifted forward, and pressed his mouth, sucking and licking, to the base of his cock.

He heard Otabek’s grunt of warning seconds before feeling his balls draw up under his chin, dick pulsing in his hand. Yuri watched in wide-eyed amazing as Otabek painted his stomach, come spurting around his piercing to land against their skin. He kept stroking, marveling at the thickness of his come and the way it felt sliding under his hand.

“Wow,” he might’ve said out loud, and he kept touching him until Otabek grabbed his hands shakily, stilling them and then pulling him up to his mouth. Kissing each fingertip, and licking at any stray smear of come, Yuri was still in awe of how incredibly beautiful and erotic his partner was. And when he gave him a heavy lidded, satisfied smile, something warm and proud curled up in Yuri’s chest. It didn’t matter that his chin was wet with spit and that there was a sore spot on his jaw from falling in the tub, and a matching spot on his tongue by his back molars where he’d bit himself, both of which were starting to ache. All he could think about was how fucking gorgeous Otabek looked with come on his skin and how _he_ had made that happen.

“That was pretty good, wasn’t it?” Yuri asked, grinning, lying down next to him, head propped up on one hand, the other playing with the sticky trails of come left on his stomach.

“фажайып,” he answered him. “Amazing.” Yuri preened at the praise, tossing his wet hair over his shoulder proudly. He looked back down at his cock and saw that it was beginning to soften and was now a much more manageable size. He was sure he could fit all of that in his mouth, if that was how big he was when he was hard.

“One day I’ll be able to suck it all,” he promised. Otabek’s dick twitched at the words and he rumbled approvingly.

“We can work on it.” His voice was rough and it made Yuri smile all over again.

“Hey,” he said, sliding his hand freely over Otabek’s chest, feeling strangely empowered by the lazy, blissed expression on his partner’s face. “If I ask you to turn over, will you fall asleep?”

“Definitely not,” Otabek promised, pulling Yuri into a low and drugging kiss. Their lips parted with a gentle smack. “Can you grab me a towel from the bathroom first?”

Once Otabek’s stomach was clean and the sheets were no longer in danger, Yuri prodded at his hip until he rolled over, settling easily on his stomach, arms folded under his head. Yuri crawled over him, marveling at the strength under his skin. Otabek’s spine was lined with muscle, enough that there was a grove from his shoulder blades all the way down to his tailbone, and Yuri traced it with a fingertip. Otabek just hummed peacefully, seemingly content to let Yuri look his fill. And there was plenty to see.

Starting from the center of one shoulder blade and running parallel to his spine, the koshkar-muiz from the Kazakh flag marched down his back. Across the tops of his shoulders and up to the back of his neck was a golden steppe eagle in flight, also from the flag. Yuri snorted, tracing the geometric lines.

“Do you ever think you love Kazakhstan _too_ much?”

“Sometimes,” Otabek answered seriously. “When I think about how much I missed it when I was young and traveling away from home.” Yuri’s teasing grin softened into something more heartfelt, and he leaned forward to kiss a wingtip. “And,” Otabek continued even quieter, “when I think about how I’ll miss it when I move to Russia to be with you.”

“You’re such a sap,” Yuri whispered to the eagle, delighted.

He kissed him, running his hands over skin and ink, feeling muscle soften underneath him. He liked gripping Otabek’s tight waist and squeezing, feeling the strength of the muscles wrapping around his core. After kissing his way down the koshkar-muiz, he leaned back over him, burying his nose in the hair behind his ear, damp and cool against his flushing face. He relaxed his legs, letting himself rest bodily against his partner. His slowly hardening dick nested right in the curve where one of his partner’s thighs met his ass. He nuzzled his nose into his ear.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathlessly. “That thing you did to me? In the shower?”

“You mean when I tongue-fucked you so well you collapsed?” Otabek asked easily, causing Yuri to blush to the roots of his hair.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking. “That. Do you like it when people do that to you?” Otabek turned his head enough so that when he opened one eye, he could see his partner, gnawing on his lip anxiously.

“Are you offering?” he asked, and the blush gathering on his cheek told Yuri that the answer was definitely a yes.

“Yeah,” he said, voice already ragged. “Please.”

“You don’t have to,” Otabek said, reaching one hand down the length of his body until he could squeeze Yuri’s knee, planted on the bed by his side. “You don’t have to do everything I do to you.”

“I know, I just want to do everything I can to you,” Yuri confessed quietly, even though it was hardly a secret.

“Then, yeah, go ahead.” Without another word, he spread his knees, pushing against the inside of Yuri’s legs until he moved to sit between them. And then he kept spreading them, arching his back to tilt his ass up, and Yuri’s heart was racing and he thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before in his life.

If he had thought his stomach, or his arms, or his back was the sexiest part of his boyfriend, he was wrong. His _thighs_. They were thick and lightly furred with dark hair, looking strong as they lifted his ass off the bed.

Yuri had heard Viktor say once that Katsu could crush his head between his thighs anytime he wanted and he would die a happy man. Yuri had been disgusted and confused at the time. Now? Now, he understood.

“Holy fuck, Beka, have I told you that I love your thighs?”

“You’ve mentioned it,” he said smugly, and Yuri had. Watching him train, admiring his gym selfies on insta, that one Kazkh sports apparel ad campaign that had him wet and dripping in nothing but compression shorts, Yuri had had many opprotuntieis to leer at the strength of his legs. But now, he got to touch.

Yuri wanted to lick over his skin, but suddenly his mouth was dry. He settled for biting instead. Sliding down the bed, far enough that his long legs dangled over the side, he settled his restless hands on his shapely calves and dug his teeth into the tendon behind Otabek’s knee. Otabek grunted, sounding surprised but not displeased, so Yuri continued on. Soon, his mouth wasn’t dry, but watering, as he dotted biting, sucking kisses up the length of his thigh, getting a little harder with each one. By the time his cheek met the firm curve of his partner’s ass, there was a line of red hickeys decorating his skin, Yuri’s lips were fat and swollen and he was whimpering with how good he looked. He tilted his head and started again, this time shoving his head between his legs and trying to get to that one, perfect ridge of muscle right on the inside of his other thigh, the one that his fingers always found when they road on the motorcycle and that he always flexed so perfectly in his douchey gym selfies. He marveled at how much darker his skin bloomed on the inside of his thigh. Or maybe he was just sucking harder. Yuri was breathless again, running his hands up the lengths of his legs, moaning around mouthfuls of flesh. He scraped his palms up the topsides of his thighs, before falling back to his knees to trace the backs of his knuckles along the lily-soft inside. He reached between his legs and ran his hands over his waist, squeezing at the tight muscles around his hips, pulling him back against his mouth.

“Oh my god, Yuri,” Otabek finally groaned, sounding frustrated.

“Sorry, sorry.” He wiped his mouth, spit on his lips and on his chin again. He traced the hickies covering his thigh adoringly. “I got distracted.”

“It’s okay,” Otabek said on a breathy laugh. Yuri tore his eyes away from his marked up thigh to see that he had propped himself up on his elbows and his head was hanging heavily between his shoulders. “Just stop teasing me.”

“I can’t,” Yuri said, running his hands over his thighs again, dragging his thumb firming against the bruises. “Fuck, Beks, your _thighs._ They’re so gorgeous.”

A shiver ran down the older boy’s spine, and a hot flush was sweeping back over his shoulders. He fit his mouth over the crease where thigh met ass. “I could spend hours doing this.” He sucked in a mouthful and swirled his tongue over, teeth working it over until his skin was bright red and light purple. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the colors and a whine left his throat. He took another bite, working across the whole curve of his ass.

“I did not do this to you,” Otabek huffed, sounding aroused and maybe a little annoyed? Yuri felt a little embarrassment coil in his stomach.

“No, you just made me lose my goddamn mind, instead,” Yuri groused back at him, allowing a slight frown to crease his brow even as he dug a new bruise right into the crease of his groin, feeling his balls brushing his cheek as he reached in for that one, pretty tendon.

“What do you think you’re doing to me?” Otabek exclaimed, clenching his fingers in his own hair. Yuri pulled back far enough to notice the sweat beading all along his partner’s spine. His thighs trembled and his exhales sounded pinched and low.

“Oh,” he said, surprised, letting his lips move against the smooth skin of his ass. “You’re not mad.”

“Of course I’m not mad,” Otabek exhaled gruffly. “I might _go mad_ if you don’t do something soon.”

“I’m doing a lot,” Yuri said, sitting back a little to admire his work. “Your thighs are even prettier now.”

“They’re also really sensitive,” he said, a slight tremble in his voice. “So stop sucking masterpieces into them and maybe start paying attention to my ass.” He shook his ass, just a little, a teasing little shake, but Yuri was instantly overcome with the need to see him twerk. Preferably over his face, so he could keep sucking on his thighs while it happened.

He finally set his hands to his ass and gripped him tightly. He massaged his cheeks, remembering that that had felt really good. He was a little nervous. Licking someone out wasn’t the same as smearing them in spit and hickies. There was probably technique to this. Technique he didn’t have.

“Tell me if I do it wrong,” He said, hands gripping his muscular ass a little too tightly.

“You won’t do it wrong,” Otabek murmured, sounding on edge, Yuri hoped it was with excitement. Yuri licked over his hole, tentatively, and when Otabek hummed encouragingly, he did it again. Dragging his tongue from just behind his balls to the curve of his lower back, Yuri went slow enough to feel the change in hair and texture, his hot breath pluming across his skin in huffs. The muscles in his ass twitched, as if he was expending a lot of effort to keep himself still. Yuri zeroed in on his hole, feeling the wrinkled skin catch on his tongue. He pointed it, and wriggled it inside, finding it tight and strong. He pushed a little harder and heard Otabek exhale heavily before he relaxed enough for him to ease inside.

It was so different. It was a little like kissing his mouth and sliding his tongue along the hot, soft muscle of his tongue, but tighter on all sides and even smoother. So Yuri kissed him like he had hundreds of time before, swirling his tongue and sucking gently with his lips. Otabek moaned. It was quiet, almost lost under the sound of Yuri’s own breathing, but it was there.

Yuri slipped his tongue out and went back to licking over his hole, now a little looser. Realizing his hands were still clenched fiercely into his cheeks, Yuri relaxed them, and Otabek shifted a little at his grip loosened. Yuri swept his hands in a restless attempt at soothing up his hips, over his ass and down his thighs, following the general path of his tongue as he licked over his hole, occasionally swirling in tight circles.

Pressing his thumb into where he thought he’d left a dark bruise on his thigh, Yuri pressed his tongue into his body again, both pressures pushing a soft grunt out of his partner. Yuri moaned, a little in love with the little sounds that he earned from his partner. It was hard to breathe, pressed this tightly up his lover’s ass, but he didn’t want to pull away, not for a second. He was hungry for him, everything was new territory to explore and he wanted to know Otabek inside and out.

“That’s good, Yuri, keep doing that,” he panted, and Yuri realized he was letting out a constant, low groan, the vibrations buzzing against his sensitive skin. He pulled back by necessity, sucking in a loud, gasping breath before dipping back in even more eagerly, using his thumbs to tug gently at the sides of his hole to pull him a little more open. His jaw was sore and his tongue was already tired, but his desperation to make his partner feel good won out, turning his groan into a whine as he licked into him again and again.

“Here, use this,” Otabek said, pushing a tube of lube down the bed between his spread thighs. Yuri pulled back, spying the open besides drawer it must have come from, though he hadn’t noticed Otabek reaching for it. Yuri brushed damp strands of hair out of his face, realizing his face was damp from sweat and his own breath and spit.

“Oh,” he said, fighting a little disappointment as he took the tube.

“You’re doing great,” Otabek said, turning his head slightly over his shoulder, comforting him anyway. Yuri bristled, feeling like he must be being placated and not liking it.

“You can just tell me you didn’t like it,” Yuri said, sullenly, nipping at his ass in embarrassment as he slicked his fingers. He rubbed the pad of his greased forefinger over his hole.

“No, it was good, really good,” Otabek assured him, his voice shaking a little as Yuri pressed lightly against his hole, tugging down on the rim slightly without pressing in. “I just really like being fingered. And I’ve been thinking about your hands for a really long time.”

Yuri wheezed. There was no other way to describe the way his breath shuddered out of him, pushed out by a choking wave of arousal.

“Really?” he asked. He looked at his hands, splayed across Otabek’s ass. They didn’t look like anything special, long and bony-fingered, slender like a girl’s.

“Yes, really,” Otabek said, pushing his hips back, causing his finger to slip in, just to the first knuckle. The older boy exhaled strongly. Yuri felt another wave of nervousness hit him.

“I’m, um, I’m not really good at this.” He debated pulling his finger out, but it felt so hot and tight inside him, he wanted to feel it for just a little longer.

“What do you mean?” Otabek asked, his hips jerking a little as he tried to encourage him along. His head hung between his shoulders again.

“It never feels right, when I try to do it,” Yuri said, cheeks red with embarrassment. He’d tried, again and again, especially after he and Otabek got together officially. He’d never gotten it right, always going a little too fast or a little too hard, or in the wrong direction. He didn’t want to hurt Otabek or make him uncomfortable.

“It’s okay,” Otabek said, leaning his weight on one elbow so he could run his other hand down to wrap around Yuri’s knee, squeezing comfortingly. “We can work on that, if you want. But I can teach you what I like, and I promise you won’t hurt me.”

It should probably concern Yuri how easily Otabek could read him, without even having to look at his face.

“You’ll tell me what to do?” he asked, a little breathlessly, dick twitching at the thought, beginning to fill again.

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be good,” Otabek said, before trailing his hand up his own thigh before wrapping around Yuri’s wrist. “You can put this finger in.” He tugged his wrist forward, but not hard enough to actually slide it in, just enough to direction. Gnawing his lip, Yuri pushed, watching in awe as his finger was swallowed. Otabek squeezed his wrist as his hole spread over the breadth of his knuckle, before tugging him a little faster under his hand was flush against his hole. Yuri moaned, flexing his finger unconsciously at the sight and the feeling, summarily overwhelmed.

“Go slow,” Otabek advised, likely more for Yuri’s benefit more than his own. “You can move that finger.” Yuri did as he was told, slowly dragging it free, before pressing against the pucker again, feeling it part for him. Otabek hummed again, and the soothing sound did a lot to relax the tension in his shoulders.

Eventually Yuri had a steady rhythm and Otabek’s hand dropped from his wrist, sliding underneath him again to hold his weight. Yuri was massaging his ass with his other hand, absentmindedly, unaware of everything that wasn’t the rim of Otabek’s asshole wrapping tightly around his finger. He was fairly sure he was moaning again, even though nothing was really happening to _him_ , but he was also fairly sure that he couldn’t stop if he’d wanted to.

“You can put in another one,” Otabek said, sounding as breathless as Yuri felt.

“You sure?” Yuri asked, sliding the pad of his middle finger around the stretched rim, his first finger buried deeply inside him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Otabek said, pushing himself back on his hand. “Just slide your finger out, and push two in together.”

Lip pinned between his teeth, he did as he was told, feeling the tightness of his body grind his fingers together as they pushed in. Otabek shuddered at the widest part of his knuckles and Yuri pulled back.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, running his free hand up and down his thigh.

“No, it’s really good, give it to me,” Otabek panted and Yuri couldn’t resist.

From there it got smoother, Yuri gaining confidence as he followed direction carefully and was rewarded with sighs and groans from the other man, pushing his hips back and up into his hand. Yuri twisted his hand when asked, spread his fingers when asked, searched for his prostate when asked.

Otabek made a gorgeous sound when he found it, a half swallowed moan that had his back arching, the golden curve of it inviting Yuri’s mouth. He mouthed over his spine as he listened to his partner direct him, “harder,” “there,” “up a little,” “ _yes.”_

“Shit, you look so good,” Yuri whined, sounding nearly upset. It was almost unfair, how gorgeous Otabek looked, rolling his hickie-dotted hips back on his fingers like that’s what they were made for. Yuri knew he was being too loud for someone who wasn’t even been touched, but the way would push back against him and tell him how well he was doing were a recipe for mindlessness moaning.

“A third, Yura, a third,” Otabek panted, pushing himself up on his hands so he could fuck himself down against his fingers better.

“You want more?”

“Yeah, I like how it stretches. Fuck, kitten, your knuckles.”

Yuri did as he was told, whimpering as Otabek made room for him so easily. It was tight and hot and so fucking sexy. After a few luxurious strokes inside him, Beka started pushing back on him again, little huffs popping from his lips in a helpless way that made Yuri’s skin feel electric. He folded over him, trying to hold his hand steady while smearing his mouth over his neck and shoulders. Otabek caught his chin with an unsteady hand and brought their lips together inelegantly. Yuri didn’t care, lurching forward for more of his taste, causing his fingers to tug up on his rim, stretching him further. Otabek moaned into his mouth and Yuri could feel it on his tongue.

Yuri leaned his weight onto his partner’s back, jerking when his dick pressed against the curve of his ass, freeing up his other hand to reach around and touch his partner’s cock.

“You’re so hard,” he gasped wonderingly. Otabek huffed a laugh, grinning loosely.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing his hips between his two hands. “Feels like you are, too.”

“Duh,” Yuri said, clamping his teeth down on his lip playfully.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Whatever Yuri had expected him to retort with, it wasn’t that, and the mental image that short question injected into his brain was enough to have his hips kicking and his forehead smacking harshly against Otabek, causing them to rock in their precarious position, draped over each other.

“Oh my God, Beka,” he groaned, his hand gripping too tightly around his cock, the other shoved all the way to the knuckles inside him. “You can’t just ask me that.”

“Is that a yes?” he teased, and Yuri could barely hear him over the hammering of his own heart. “You said you weren’t ready to bottom yet, and that’s fine. But are you ready to fuck me?”

“I won’t last,” he said, completely sure that it would be mere moments inside him before he was blowing it, if he even got all the way in.

“You’ve come three times this morning, it’ll be fine,” Otabek said, pushing back on his fingers gently, encouragingly.

“You want me in you?” It wasn’t dirty talk, it was clarification, curiosity.

“Yes,” Otabek hissed, clenching around his fingers.

“I didn’t think you would,” Yuri trailed off, not really finishing the sentence, absently curling his fingers inside him, sending a shiver up his spine.

“You know I like it both ways,” Otabek said, and _fuck_ did that sound dirty.

“I know,” Yuri whined, pressing his forehead into his neck, overwhelmed, his dick leaking all over his partner’s skin. “I just thought, for our first time, you know, doing _that,_ …”

“It’ll be better like this.” Otabek sounded breathless himself. “It won’t hurt you, I’m already ready. It’ll be perfect,” he ended on a quiet groan, turning his head to mouth at Yuri’s ear. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Yes, Beka, yes, _fuck,_ ” he answered too quickly, a little embarrassing. But he couldn’t care. Not when Otabek was sliding out from underneath him, leaving him panting and with cold fingers. He reached back into that drawer and retrieved a condom. Yuri took it and sat back on his heels, confused. “Uh, you know I was a virgin before you touched me, right?”

“Fuck, Yura,” Otabek groaned, yanking him into a biting kiss, his hands hard in his hair. “That’s so sexy, I fucking love that.”

“What, that no one else has ever had me like this?”

“ _Yes,_ ” he moaned into his mouth. “You're mine.” He bit him.

“So why the condom? I know you’ve been tested and you haven’t been with anyone else,” he spoke into his mouth. “Don’t you want my come?”

“Құдай, I’ve created a monster,” Otabek groaned happily, dragging Yuri to lie on top of him, lying back against the pillows. “It’s safer, cleaner. Some people worry about that. It will also help you last a little longer.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Yuri said, pulling back, cheeks a little pinker.

“You don’t have to,” Otabek assured him, running his hands up and down his chest as he spread his legs on either side of him, knees pulling up.

“No, it’s a good idea,” Yuri said, letting his hair cover his face as he clumsily opened the wrapper, carefully deciding which way it rolled before bringing it to his cock with shaking hands.

“Let me help,” Otabek said softly, brushing his hair back before reaching down between his legs and taking the condom and a gentle grip on his dick. Looking into his eyes, not even needing to see what he was doing, Otabek rolled it down over him, expertly. Yuri was once again reminded of exactly how much experience he had.

He shuddered as he smeared lube over himself. Otabek handed him the towel from before and he dried his hand off.

“Like this?” he asked to be sure, kneeling between his partner’s spread thighs, mottled and dotted with marks. Yuri ran his fingers over them again.

“Yeah,” Otabek said, reeling him in with a hand cupped loosely around his neck. “I want to watch you.”

“Don’t,” Yuri said embarrassedly, though a disbelieving smile colored his features. He still couldn’t quite believe he was this lucky. Otabek laughed at him, kissing him firmly.

“Ready?” he asked, and Yuri had the thought that it should probably be him asking that.

“Yeah,” he said, sliding his knees in closer, nudging them under Otabek’s thighs. “You?” He wrapped his thumb and forefinger around his dick, afraid of any more friction.

“Yeah,” Otabek sighed against his cheek, and Yuri pushed in. The head popped through the ring of muscle and Yuri was already crying out loudly.

He shook, edging in a little deeper as Otabek muttered soothing words into his ears, tender touches brushing across his back as he urged him deeper. When their hips met, the fit snug and tight and _hot_ , Yuri was entirely sure he was having an out of body experience. There was nothing of this world that could possibly feel this good. He jerked his hips in deeper, unconsciously, having nowhere to go. Otabek sucked in a harsh breath at that, his own hands having gone tense around his sides.

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked, when he’d caught enough breath, though it was still reedy and thin. His partner hummed in the affirmative, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss that belayed the rapid fire sparks shooting between Yuri’s every cell. The kiss broke when Yuri couldn’t stop whimpering into his mouth. Otabek nudged their noses together, looking at him half-lidded.

“ _Fuck me_.”

Yuri was aware that he was being too loud, and that his hips were moving in uncoordinated, rabbity thrusts. He was aware that someone was banging on the wall over his head and that his hands were clenched uncomfortably tightly in the pillows around Otabek’s head. But he didn’t care about any of that. He couldn’t. Not when Otabek was sucking him in, again and again, as if he belonged there. Not when he whispered pretty words of praise into the damp space between them. Not when Otabek’s hands slid over his ass, up his waist and down his arms, feeling him everywhere.

“Fuck,” he bit out, eyes squeezing shut at he pushed himself in again and again with jarring, uneven thrusts. Otabek cooed something quietly, brushing his hair behind his ear with one hand. The tender gesture was nearly too much.

“I can’t, Beka, I can’t,” he sobbed, his lungs feeling crushed by the perfect pressure around his cock. He rested his forehead against the side of Otabek’s neck, his long body bowed over him in a pale, tense arc.

“Here, it’s okay,” Otabek said, his voice rough and quiet. He wrapped his arms around Yuri’s back, hooking his heels behind his thighs and squeezing his middle tightly. Yuri moaned brokenly when Otabek’s internal muscles clenched around him as they turned, and before Yuri was consciously aware of moving, he was flat on his back against the cold sheets, Otabek sitting prettily on his cock.

“Oh, I, Beka,” he babbled, having nothing to say but unable to be quiet.

“It’s okay,” he said, planting his forearms on either side of his head. “Just let me.”

His hips rolled in smooth, perfect thrusts, immediately settling into a punishing rhythm that drove Yuri to breathless benedictions. He moved swiftly, snapping his hips against him with enough force to sond loud in the room, taking his dick like he wanted to _keep_ it. Yuri clutched at him with hands that would leave bruises.

“I can’t,” he gasped again, feeling so full of held back pleasure that he was sure it would burst out his throat. It nearly was, in the stream of unintelligible, uncontrolled moans and whines that left his mouth.

“It’s okay, you can come,” Otabek said, kissing his lips lightly, little pecks that let him taste his moans. He worked his hips a little harder, a little faster, snapping down on Yuri’s dick like it was had effortless as breathing.

“Fuck, Beka, fuck, Beka, _fuck,”_ he cried, coming on a final, strangled scream, shooting inside him, fingers clawing desperately at his hips. He gasped for air, lungs heaving as the tight clench of muscles in his chest finally loosened enough to suck in a greedy pull. Otabek was still sitting astride him, now with his back straight, his hips working in slow circles to wring the last shocks and drops out of him. Yuri released his grip, letting his hands flop down to the bed, embarrassed by the pitiful little whine trickling from his slack lips.

“Gorgeous,” Otabek said, threading his fingers through his hair. He didn’t lean down to kiss him, though Yuri wished he would terribly, even just to shut him up. He couldn’t stop the broken little sound he was making, not if he wanted to keep breathing. Every exhale was a shaky little keen.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, flushed red from his cheeks to the center of his chest.

“Don’t be,” Otabek said, hands planting on his shoulders but not coming down to kiss him. “That was so fucking hot, you’re so easy, _fuck,_ the sounds you make. So gorgeous.”

“Stop it,” Yuri whined, covering his embarrassed face with his hands. Otabek just laughed quietly, too quiet for him to hear, but his felt his ass move around his mostly soft cock. Yuri whined some more. “I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t,” Otabek said firmly, grinding down on him again to make his point, knocking the barely caught breath from his lungs. “Don’t say it again. That’s how everyone’s first time is. It’s natural, it’s beautiful, it’s perfect.”

Yuri smiled, bashfully, still embarrassed but less so.

“Can you just come down here and kiss me?” he asked, pulling at Otabek’s shoulders.

“Can’t,” his boyfriend said shortly, circling his hips meanly again. “If I lean down, you could slide out.”

“So? Come kiss me.”

“You said you’d fuck me.” Otabek swiveled his hips again. “You’re going to fuck me.”

Yuri’s eyes widened. He was suddenly aware of how firmly he was pinned, by his partner’s hips and hands.

“Otabek, I can’t,” he said again, and he didn’t know how many more times he would have to say so, how many times Otabek would make him feel like he was losing his goddamn mind.

“You can, you definitely can.” He grinned down at him, that sexy smirk that quirked just the corner of his lips. “You’re so easy, kitten, all it takes is a touch to get you going.” Yuri whimpered, his embarrassment turning hot with arousal. “And now I’ve got your dick in me? You can get it back up, I know you can. I’ll keep you right here until you do.”

“Babe,” his voice was barely a creak, Yuri pawed at his grinding hips, his fingertips still feeling dumb and clumsy from orgasm. “It’s too much.”

“Yura, I’ve waited so long for this,” Otabek murmured, apparently changing tactics. He touched his face, dragging his thumb over his lax mouth. “Please Yura? I want you so much. You look so good under me, like you belong here.” Yuri fought through the over-sensitization, searching for a single coherent thought. “Fuck, you looked so good, fucking me like you couldn’t even breathe, like you could die doing it.”

“I thought I was gonna,” Yuri admitted, accepting that he could be trapped in worse prisons. He rubbed his rough and clumsy hands up and down his boyfriend’s thighs.

“My neighbors must be so pissed,” he continued to muse with a grin, looping his hands around Yuri’s neck, massaging lightly before pulling him carefully up to seated, keeping himself seated tightly to his groin. Yuri moved easily, feeling loose and taffy-limbed. He wrapped his arms around his lover, burying his face in his partner’s chest, groaning in the back of his throat. “You’re so _loud_. And they thought they hated listening to me mix.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuri said again, this time groaning in further embarrassment, shoving the bridge of his nose into the sharp cleave between Otabek’s defined pecs. Exhausted shivers trickled down from his shoulders, his hips jerking occasionally as his partner squeezed himself over his cock.

“No, it’s amazing, I love it.” He tipped his head up into a kiss, finally, and the younger boy sighed into it, finally feeling his heart start to steady in his chest. “It’s like you can’t even help it.”

“I can’t,” Yuri said, again.

“Next time, maybe I’ll put my fingers in your mouth, make you be quiet.” Yuri moaned, proving his point, being far too loud in the quiet space.

“Next time might be pretty soon,” he admitted, feeling his oversensitive dick twitch inside his walls, at the filthy way Otabek’s rough voice throbbed through his chest.

“Mhmm,” he hummed. “You’re right.” He pushed him playfully back down onto the bed, and Yuri landed with a played up ‘oof’.’ The two grinned at each other. “Knew you could do it.” He rolled his hips, feeling Yuri thickening up in him, growing hard and hot. They spent several, long, slow moments, Otabek fucking him gently, coaxing him to full hardness. Yuri groaned when his partner clenched around him. His balls _ached._ He never thought he’d be tired of coming, but his body already felt stretched thin and rubbery. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

“You ready?” Otabek asked after a while, a slow grin turning up the corners of his lips. Yuri nodded, the bones of his neck feeling only loosely connected. Otabek rose up over him, just an inch or two, before pressing down again. Yuri legs squirmed against the bed. “Yeah, that’s good.” He turned his hips, searching for that angle. He planted his palms on his chest again, pushing down as he raised himself up. Yuri gasped as his dick touched cold air, having grown used to the heavy heat of his partner’s body. He shivered.

“Oh my god,” he moaned, tilting his head back, unable to watch Otabek’s perfect thighs flexing and tensing as he fucked himself slowly on his cock. “It’s too much,” he whined, trying to find purchase on hips slippery with dewy sweat.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” Otabek promised, working his hips steadily, leaning down over him, cupping his face in one palm.

“Don’t,” Yuri said, wrapping his arms up around his waist. “It’s too much,” he repeated. “But,” his voice caught. “It’s good.” Otabek grinned, wickedly, before kissing him with teeth and tongue, snapping his hips against him. His hard thrusts pushed huffing breaths out of his lungs, feeling thick and overused.

Otabek sat back up, looking tall and hungry on his dick, thighs and hips moving relentlessly. His chest flexed when he pushed down on Yuri’s shoulders, using the leverage to fuck him harder.

“Fuck, Bek, baby, your tits,” Yuri groaned, reaching up with one already trembling hand to feel his chest flex, to toy with his nipple rings. His boyfriend moaned encouragingly, pushing his chest into his hands, working his hips faster. Everything about Yuri felt swollen and exhausted, but even he knew he’d be coming again, relishing in the entirely overwhelming feeling of his partner fucking him into the mattress. The condom was already filled with his come, and Yuri could feel it coating his cock, sliding down his shaft, pushed by the forceful muscles of his partner’s body. It made everything even hotter, even slicker, even more _filthy._

“You feel so good,” Otabek murmured, his eyes closed, focusing on fucking himself just right, aiming for that spot over and over again. “So good for me, kitten, your dick is so good.”

“Yeah?” Yuri asked, his voice cracking, gripping his waist with both hands again, trying to hold on, to him, to his sanity. He was sweating, he could feel it sliding across his temples into his hair, running down his neck and dewing his stomach and back. He was out of breath and his thighs were twitching like he’d just landed twenty quads one right after another.

He was writhing, restlessly moving as his body fought the urge to escape the oversensitivity. He was making it hard for Otabek to keep his smooth rhythm, but he couldn’t stay still, not with sparks running along his every nerve, a series of constant shocks, like a thunderstorm was stuck under his skin. Otabek paused in his rhythm to lean up on his knees, swinging his feet in to rest between Yuri’s legs, using his shins to hold him down, pinning him between his knees.

“Fuck, yes, your pretty little virgin dick,” Otabek groaned, and Yuri wheezed, unable to draw in a breath, not with the filthy things coming out of his mouth. “It’s mine, isn’t it?” he said, sliding one hand under Yuri’s head, threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “ _You’re_ mine.” He said, pulling him up, Yuri moaning at the slight tug. He met him halfway, kissing him fiercely. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Yuri said easily, his fingernails digging in too tightly to his thighs, marking them up some more as he clung to him, head tilted up in supplication, offering him his mouth, his everything.

“Exactly how I imagined you,” Otabek huffed, letting him fall back to the bed, limp and twisting as his body failed to decide if it wanted to push towards away from the pleasure. “Loud, writhing,” Otabek took his earlobe between his teeth, whispering breathlessly. “ _Useless_.” Yuri groaned. “Barely holding on, blissed out, eyes rolling. All for me.”

And then he was planting his hands firmly on the bed and fucking himself so strongly Yuri’s skin stung. The tops of his thighs turned pink, matching the rest of him as his whole torso flushed, his face red and sweaty, partly from an inability to catch his breath. His throat was starting to click dryly and he had no idea what vulgar sounds he was making. His feet scrambled for purchase under Otabek’s renewed onslaught, slipping on the soft sheets.

“Touch me,” Otabek groaned, not slowing his brutal pace. Yuri obeyed, curling one hand loosely around his cock, letting him move it through his fist while he fucked himself. Otabek moaned, wrapping his hand around Yuri’s, squeezing tighter, guiding him better. “Are you going to come?” he asked, and Yuri pried his eyes back open to look at him. He nodded, biting his lip against his keens and babbles. “This is the longest you’ve lasted,” Otabek said, breathless and fractured with grunts and huffs. “So good already,” he murmured, clenching his hand around their joined fists, hissing when he caught his piercing too roughly. “So perfect, all mine.”

“I’m gonna,” Yuri said, hoping that the tension building inside him would release. He was half scared that the orgasm would kill him, would fry his brain. But he was more scared that he wouldn’t come, that it wouldn’t end, and he’d lose his mind that way, never able to catch his breath or rest. “Please, Beka, I have to, please. You feel so good, I’m going to lose it, you make me feel, I can’t even, _please._ ”

Otabek came, spraying over his chest, moaning and looking down at Yuri like he was some kind of fantasy. Yuri got to see it this time, saw the way the pleasure creased his brow and his mouth opened around a rib-bending groan. He shuddered around Yuri, pulsing around him in painfully perfect spasms and by the time Otabek was collapsing forward to kiss him, he was coming again, a scream pushing up from his stomach, forcing his head back, letting Otabek feel it through his lips on his throat.

This time, Otabek didn’t waste time pulling off. He slid himself off of his lap to slide the condom off. He wasn’t careful at all, even with it being extra full and slippery. He let more come than he had to pour down over his cock, dribbling down over his empty and exhausted balls and smearing over his thighs, still weak and twitching.

He licked him clean, and Yuri whimpered even more as his sensitive skin was cleaned so carefully, so painstakingly gently. Even as smooth as it was, his tongue was too much.

“Beka, please, stop,” he begged, and Otabek complied, agreeing that the younger body under him had finally had enough. Yuri was relieved; he had taken all that he could handle.

“You did so well, Yura,” Otabek murmured, gathering the taller boy up against his sweaty chest, running his hands through his hair, trying to sort out the tangles he’d gotten from thrashing his head against the pillows. Yuri collapsed against him, feeling boneless and drained. He’d never come so hard in his life, twice no less.

Yuri’s throat clicked dryly, and Otabek gave him a wry smile before reaching for the bedside table to grab the water bottle that still rested there. He opened it and passed it over. Yuri took a few, careful sips, before hanging it back and curling up against Otabek’s side. His head felt hollow and his skin felt empty, like he’d been blown up like a balloon and then let go to shoot across the room, falling limply to the floor.

His partner’s large hands petted easily down his spine, occasionally combing through the ends of his hair, nearly halfway dry. Yuri just shook, tremors running through him for long moments afterwards. He buried his face in his partner’s shoulder and clung to him like he was safety in an earthquake.

“You okay?” he asked eventually, wrapping his arm tightly around him. Yuri just nodded, letting his forehead press strongly into his skin. “That was pretty intense, wasn’t it?” Yuri nodded again. “You need anything?”

“I think I just need to lay here for a little bit,” Yuri admitted, his voice rough and alien.

“Do you want to sleep for a couple more hours?” Otabek asked gently. It wasn’t even afternoon yet, as they’d woken up early, and they didn’t have anything to do today until Otabek took him out to his club for his party tonight.

“Yeah, if you stay,” Yuri said, tangling their legs together to keep him close.

“Of course.” Otabek used one foot to hook the sheet and pull it up from the bottom of the bed and cover Yuri’s sweat-damp skin.

“Will you braid my hair?” Yuri asked, expending just enough energy to flop himself directly on top of his partner.

“Sure,” he said easily. “As soon as my fingers work again.” Yuri picked his head up at that.

“Really?” he asked hopefully. “It was that good for you?” Otabek just quirked a brow at him, and held up one hand so Yuri could see that it was still trembling. Yuri grinned, leaning forward enough to press a kiss to his palm and then his lips.

“Go to sleep, my love,” Otabek murmured, setting that shaking hand on the back of his neck. The subtle tremors helped Yuri fall asleep, a slightly smug grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	12. Public Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's birthday celebration continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa wtf I actually wrote something with plot?!?
> 
> Which also means I have to add some warnings.  
> Minor warning for referenced homophobia, of an oc to an oc.  
> Major warning for transphobia and misgendering. A hella explicit warning is in the end notes

“I’m almost ready,” Yuri called out the bathroom door. He’d kicked Otabek out of the room after his sneaky kisses had caused him to nearly poke his eye out with his liner. Otabek didn’t take that long to get ready; all he did was pick out a pair of good jeans and select a tight enough tshirt, styling his hair with a palmful of gel and a careful eye. Yuri, however, had taken the better part of an hour.

He took one last look in the mirror before nodding his head in approval.

Fishnets covered his legs, the black band of the top starkly dividing the exposed length of his stomach. Denim shorts were pulled on over top, as short as Yuri could buy them, and a white crop top that said “Fucking Fabulous” in black writing completed the outfit. His hair was falling down his back in loose curls, a section on the side of his head was braided back with tight, neat horizontal rows to keep it out of his face. His eyes were smudged lightly with black liner, his lashes were dark and thick, and his lips were shining a pretty, strawberry pink.

He thought he looked pretty fucking badass.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Otabek seemed to agree. He looked him up and down before crooking his finger in a clear “come here” motion. Yuri did, sauntering over to where Otabek sat on the edge of the bed, grin widening to shark-proportions as Otabek remained speechless. Once he was in grabbing range, Otabek’s hands were on him, pulling him close and sliding up and down the length of his thighs. The hickey on his stomach was perfectly bisected by a thread of his tights, just riding the waistband of his shorts. Otabek stared at it, stroking his skin under the thin lines of fabric.

“If I buy you a bunch of these in different colors, will you keep wearing them?” he asked, and Yuri rolled his eyes. Otabek stood up and innocently wrapped his arms loosely around his waist, tilting his head up for a kiss. Yuri regarded him carefully for a moment, attempting to ensure that if he granted the kiss he wouldn’t somehow end up naked on the floor. Otabek waited patiently, though, so Yuri dipped his chin and kissed him chastely. Otabek hummed into it before pulling away with a smack of their lips. “You look fucking fabulous indeed,” he said, before turning around and walking out of the room.

Yuri followed with a grin, admiring the snugness of his jeans as he walked to the closet, grabbing their jackets.

“Come on, Yuri,” Otabek called over his shoulder. “Can’t be late to your own party.

Yuri’s confident mood soured a little on the drive over. It was brisk in Almaty still, and Otabek drove agonizingly slowly, saying that fishnets wouldn’t protect Yuri’s legs if they got into an accident. It gave the younger boy longer to think, and to worry. He knew it was going to be fun, that they’d drink and dance and enjoy themselves. But, the social anxiety of being with new people, without an easy escape route still made his stomach twist. He didn’t like new people, and even though he knew the party would be fun, and he’d have a good time once he got there, he was still dreading it just a little.

When they arrived at Otabek’s friend’s apartment building, he was anxious enough that his hands were sweating and his stomach hurt. He swallowed it down and put on a brave face like he always did. Otabek seemed to notice, giving him sideways looks in the elevator. Yuri just stuck his chin out and took deep breaths. The elevator doors opened and Otabek wrapped his fingers around his wrist, pulling him to a door that music could be heard clearly through. He didn’t knock, though, instead turning to Yuri.

“Before we go in,” he began, but Yuri cut him off.

“Let me guess,” he said, nerves making him snappish. “You want me to play nice for your friends and not be an asshole. You’re afraid I’m going to embarrass you.”

Otabek blinked at him.

“No, actually,” he said, seemingly unperturbed by his outburst. “I was going to say that my friends are assholes and will probably _try_ to embarrass me.” He gave Yuri a curious frown. “Why would I want you to play nice? Just because you’re occasionally nice to me doesn’t mean you’re nice to everyone.” He shrugged. “I told them all about you, they should know what to expect. What’s the point of pretending to be someone you’re not?”

Yuri’s shoulders hunched a little in guilt, though he still held his chin up proudly.

“I don’t know. Sorry, I guess,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m just nervous.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?”

“I’m not exactly good at making friends,” Yuri said, slumping against the wall and folding his arms. “There’s a lot of pressure to make sure they like me.”

“Pressure from who?” he asked, stepping in close to him, holding his hand gently. “I’m not pressuring you.”

“I know,” Yuri sighed exasperatedly. “But it’s still important that they like me. Only assholes ignore their friends’ advice when they tell them their boyfriend is worthless or lame or whatever.”

“You’re worried they won’t like you, so I’ll break up with you,” Otabek said, and the quirk in his brow communicated how ridiculous he thought that was.

“Don’t act like that doesn’t happen all the time,” Yuri said petulantly. “Smart people listen to their friends about their partners. That’s half the reason they introduce them. To be approved of, or not.”

“Yura, you’re worrying about nothing,” Otabek said, brushing his hand up and down along his arm. “Of course my friends are going to like you.”

“No one likes me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and really leaned into his pout.

“I like you,” Otabek said without skipping a beat, slipping his fingers through the belt loops on the sides of his shorts.

“Well, you're special,” Yuri mumbled into his chest.

“No, I’m not,” he answered with an easy shrug. “I just really like you. And I like people like you. Sarcastic, mean, and smart. So most of my friends are like that. So they will all like you.”

“You don’t know that,” Yuri said, though he did feel better.

“I know that my friends are assholes, like you,” Otabek said frankly. “And if you go in there looking like a nervous wreck, they’re going to pick you apart”

“Oh my God, Beka, that’s not helping,” Yuri exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“So,” he continued, unperturbed, stepping in against his chest now that the gate of his arms was open. “How about I help you relax first?”

Yuri gulped, eyes suddenly wide, holding completely still.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, as if he would say no to anything. He looked up and down the hall. It was empty and the music from the door they stood beside was still loud.

“How about I blow you in the stairwell right there,” he said, gesturing with a tilt of his head, though his eyes were on Yuri’s lips. “Then you’ll be nice and relaxed and will be able to enjoy the rest of your birthday.”

“Uh,” Yuri said intelligently. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Otabek grinned with too many teeth and kissed him wickedly. The Russian followed easily as he was towed by the hand into a stairwell at the end of the hall, the door closing loudly behind them. He was pressed against the wall brusquely, and kissed again, within an inch of his life. Otabek fell to his knees and pulled his shorts open with quick, efficient movements. He was already completely hard.

“Fuck, you’re so easy,” Otabek murmured, carefully peeling down the band of the fishnets, kissing the red imprint they left behind on his stomach. Once they were around his thighs, he drug his briefs down and out of the way. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and the moan Yuri let out bounced around the stairwell, even more loud and lewd than it had been at home. Otabek wrapped his other hand around his dominant wrist, holding it against the wall behind him. “Don’t mess up my hair,” he ordered. “This will be really quick, don’t fight it. Just let yourself feel good.”

Yuri couldn’t do anything but nod and gape at him. His wide eyes watched as Otabek licked over his cock, getting it slick enough to slide easily between his tightly pursed lips. And then he swallowed him whole. He sucked him into his throat again and again, taking his whole length, not stopping for breath. Just squeezing the first several inches of his cock with his throat, his tongue swirling around the base, his hands squeezing his balls and his wrist.

He was right. It was really quick.

In less than a minute, Yuri was shooting into his throat, his voice echoing through the stairwell. His ragged breathing filled the space as Otabek pulled off, tucked him away, and wiped his mouth. Yuri adjusted himself and took a moment to close his eyes and focus on catching his breath.

“Do you feel better now?” Otabek asked, his voice a little gruffer than usual, pressing a damp kiss to his cheek.

“Definitely,” Yuri said, grinning at his partner lazily. His head felt clear and comfortable after orgasm, his stomach settled and his nerves inconsequential.

“Good,” Otabek said, kissing him chastely. “Try not to look so thoroughly fucked though, or they’ll just tease us for that.”

“I’ll try,” Yuri said with an easy chuckle. He reached for his partner’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Thanks for putting up with me, or whatever.”

“Thanks for thinking I’m special,” Otabek said, softly, pulling him into a hug and nosing at his neck. They held each other for a moment longer before the Kazakh pulled away, threading their fingers together and leading him back out into the hallway. “Now let’s introduce you to all my dick friends.”

 

 

Otabek turned the door knob without knocking, pushing it open and stepping through, towing Yuri along with him. Several heads turned towards them, a chorus of greetings in Kazakh filling the air, from more people than Yuri had anticipated. At least seven or eight people populated the apartment, dotted along the couches and slouched in the doorway to the kitchen. A banner hung over what served for the kitchen table, done in graffiti style pinks and purples, and said “Happy B-day Tiger!” with a cat face in the corner.

A small woman came towards them from the kitchen, a huge smile on her face and two drinks in her hands. Yuri took her as the host as she navigated the space with ease. As she neared the pair, however, she stopped in her tracks and the smile slid off her face, replaced by an annoyed exasperation.

“Goddammit, Otabek, I told you to stop having sex in my stairwell.” She admonished, in Russian. Yuri’s jaw hit the ground. Otabek just shrugged.

“Couldn’t help it,” he said, stepping forward to take a drink from her hands. He leaned in to kiss her cheek but she sidestepped away from him.

“Don’t you dare, I’ve known you since grade-school, I know when you have blow-job lips,” she said, playfully shoving him away before turning to Yuri again, still gaping in shock. “Jesus Christ, Beks,” she said, grabbing Yuri’s chin in a hand that was cold with condensation. “What the fuck did you do to his neck?” Yuri jerked out of her grip but she didn’t seem offended, handing him the cup filled with what he prayed was alcohol.

“Don’t feel sorry for him,” Otabek said, dragging him further into the apartment. “You should see my thighs right now.”

“Maybe you should show us,” one girl called from the couch, an eager smile on her face.

“Maybe not,” Yuri snapped at her, earning a chuckle from his partner.

“Everyone, this is Yuri, Yuri this is everyone,” Otabek introduced carelessly. “That’s Leena,” he said, pointing to the girl who greeted them first. “She’s my oldest and meanest friend.” The way she grinned made it seem like that was an old joke of their’s. “That’s her partner Ksenia,” he gestured to the girl on the couch Yuri had already snapped at. “She’s harmless. She made the banner for you, I’d bet.” The girl smiled, feylike and sharp, her long earrings jingling as she nodded her head. Otabek pointed out a couple more people by name, but it was too much too soon for Yuri to remember them all. He just nodded slightly at each one. After the introductions were summarily completed, Otabek turned back to Leena. “What’s the plan?”

“I figure we can hang out here for a little, get to know Yuri, get drunk, and then walk down to the club,” she said, shrugging as she slumped down into her girlfriend’s lap.

“Sounds good,” Otabek said, pushing Yuri into a plush-looking armchair, before sitting down on the floor in front and leaning back against his legs. Yuri scratched a hand through the shorter hairs at the base of his neck and looked around at everyone staring at him, all with strangely eager smiles on their faces.

“Are they just going to stare at me all night?” he directed to Otabek, plenty loud enough to be heard. Several of them laughed, the boy closest to them most of all.

“Get used to it, Blondie,” he said. “You’re probably one of the tallest, lightest person in Kazakhstan right now.” Yuri shrugged. The boy was probably right. “I’m Marcus,” he said, stretching out a dark-skinned hand. He spoke with an American accent, and his teeth looked startlingly white in his mouth. “It’ll be nice to have a new exotic person in the club tonight. Most of Almaty has gotten used to seeing the one black man in all of central Asia.”

“Your Russian is good,” Yuri commented, shaking his hand. The other boy grinned wider.

“Thanks. You speak any Kazakh?”

“No,” Yuri said.

“Otabek hasn’t taught you anything?” another girl asked from the other side of Marcus. Her hair was styled in thick braids, curling around her head before her hair poured out into a ponytail. He was pretty sure her name started with a T

“Not unless you count “фажайып,” “Құдай,” and “иә”” he said with a smirk, recalling all the things Otabek had gasped at him in bed. Otabek laughed and Marcus’ grin widened, reaching over to slap Yuri on the back approvingly.

“Nice, Otabek,” Ksenia teased him from across the low coffee table, laden with drinks at varying stages of full and empty. “Way to do our country proud.”

“Can you blame me?” Otabek said, his smiles easier here. “Look at him.”

“Oh, I’m looking,” Marcus answered, giving Yuri a lingering up and down.

“Oh my God, he blushes, that’s so cute!” Leena squealed, causing most of the Kazakhs to laugh. Yuri scowled and tried to temper his blush.

“Yuri,” a girl called from the doorway of the kitchen, making her way to sit on the floor in front of the television, a boy and a girl following her, all three holding hands. “You should’ve seen Otabek cleaning his apartment for you yesterday. I swear he’s never used a vacuum before in his life, it was adorable.”

Yuri laughed and the girl’s face lit up.

From that point on, it was like being at a roast, everyone in the room offering up the best, most embarrassing stories about Otabek, and making jokes at his expense. Things directed specifically at Yuri were in Russian, but many of the other conversations around the room were in a mix of Kazakh, Russian and English. The way Otabek laughed and joked back made it seem like this was a regular occurrence.

“Don’t listen to him, Yura,” he said, after a different boy told a frankly terrifying story of Otabek nearly breaking his neck crowd-surfing at a concert. “Paulo is that creepy old guy that hangs out with people way too young for him. Every group of friends has one.”

“I don’t,” Yuri said, taking another sip of his second drink. Otabek snorted.

“Yes, you do,” he said laughing. “It’s Viktor.” Yuri spit into his cup and quickly pulled out his phone so he could send Viktor and Mila a snapchat of Otabek laughing with that quote as the caption.

“Don’t send him that,” Otabek whined, trying to grab the phone out of his hand.

“Too late,” Yuri said, grinning smugly. Otabek twisted around and knelt in front of his chair, pulling him in by his neck and kissing him soundly. Yuri started at first, painfully aware of the other people in the room, but he relaxed quickly, as he always did under Otabek’s touch. He hummed into the kiss, dropping his phone so he could touch Otabek’s face lightly, making quiet sounds of approval as Otabek suckled on his lip.

“Oh, fuck, Beks,” one of the girls from the trio on the ground called, throwing an empty cup at him to get his attention. “That reminds me! You have to settle a bet for us.” Otabek pulled away, standing up and scooping one arm under Yuri’s legs so he could slide into the chair and pull him into his lap.

“What bet?” he asked, leaning around Yuri to pick his drink back up from the ground before settling again, other arm snuggly around the Russian’s waist.

“Remember that thing you said about him in the group message, like, almost a year ago, when you first started thirsting after his jailbait ass?”

“Which thing?” Otabek asked, taking a long drink.

“He can’t remember because you’re all he talked about,” Marcus said, leaning over to whisper into Yuri’s ear. Yuri laughed into his own cup and Marcus grinned at him some more.

“You know, that prediction you made?” the girl said leadingly. Yuri was trying to remember her name, but he was pretty sure it was a traditional Kazakh name, and those foreign syllables had a way of not sticking in his memory. “About what he might be like?”

“What are these _predictions_ you made?” Yuri asked, looking at him warily. Everyone around them seemed far too invested in hearing the answer.

“For the whole time Otabek was celibate because of you, all he would talk about was what you would be like in bed,” Paulo said, rolling his eyes like he was really fucking sick of it.

“ _What_ ,” Yuri said, not so much a question as a statement of disbelief.

“Beks, for real,” Marcus started. “Before Yuri got here yesterday, how long had it been since you’d gotten laid?”

“Like six fucking months,” Otabek said, shaking his head like it had been complete agony.

“Seriously, Yuri, he was so sexually frustrated,” Leena said, leaning forward so she could see them around Marcus. “I don’t think he’s ever gone that long without fucking someone before, not since he _started_ having sex.”

“And he stopped fucking strangers like two months or something before you even started dating,” Ksenia commented from under her girlfriend, wriggling out to go refill their cups. “It was so tragic to watch.”

“He was so annoying and cranky,” one of the girls on the floor said.

“If he wasn’t working out his sexual frustration on the ice, he was laying around on our couch, moaning about what you would sound like, and feel like and look like.” Leena ended in a mocking tone, rolling her eyes and frowning dramatically in a poor interpretation of Otabek’s thoughtful face.

“Are you serious?” Yuri asked, wide-eyed and smiling with hopeful disbelief.

“He was so obnoxious about it, we started making bets on what would turn out to be true and what would be total bullshit.”

“Which one did you bet on?” Otabek asked, his ears red with a blush that Yuri’s trained eyes immediately picked up on. The Russian leaned forward in his seat, afraid and excited to hear the answer.

“Were you right? Is he a screamer?” Leena asked, eyes gleaming.

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed, whipping his head around to his partner so fast he hit him with his hair. “You didn’t!”

“I think that’s a yes,” the boy sitting on the ground with the two girls said, playing with the hair of the girl with the Kazakh name.

“We have money on this, we have to be sure,” she said. “Otabek, were you right or were you wrong?”

Otabek gave him a sheepish smile but Yuri just glared at him, his cheeks violently red.

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” Otabek said, and Yuri relaxed against him. Otabek pressed a kiss to the braids on the side of his head. “But I can tell you that his voice isn’t always this rough.”

Yuri cursed him out in Japanese, playfully shoving him as riots of laughter lit up the room and Leena pocketed a handful of money. The girl sitting on the floor pouted, arms crossed and looking thoroughly put out until the girl next to her climbed into her lap and kissed her with enough tongue that it was indecent to watch.

Laughing, Otabek caught Yuri’s hands in his own, stopping his half-hearted struggle and reeling him into a kiss. He was smiling too hard for it to be a particularly good one, but the gentle bubbles of laughter rising out of him were enough to soothe Yuri’s embarrassment.

“Fuck you,” he said against his lips, biting at him sharply.

“You already did,” Otabek teased, before pushing his hand through his hair and pulling him into a real kiss, the kind that was long and deep and wet. Yuri pulled away before he embarrassed himself further, wiping his mouth and still blushing brightly.

“It’s about time to head out,” Paulo said from his spot on the couch. “If you want to fix your hair or makeup, now is the time, ladies.” Yuri quirked a brow and scoffed lightly in the back of his throat. Paulo noticed. He turned and grinned at him beatifically. “I say only ladies because you already look perfect, tiger.” Yuri snorted as he got to his feet. He ran his hand lightly along Otabek’s jawline, marveling at how easily he tilted it up for his kiss.

He followed Leena into her bathroom, and checked under his eyes for unintentional smudges. After cleaning up a little, he wiggled the tube of lip gloss out of his pocket. One of the girls offered to touch up a few of the curls hanging by his face and he accepted easily. Leena hopped up onto the counter and studied him carefully.

“You’re really pretty,” she said.

“Thanks,” Yuri said, quirking a brow, sensing a trap.

“It’s nice that you’re tall and blond,” she said, picking up a file and going over her nails. “Maybe you’ll take some of the attention off us girls.”

“That would happen even if I wasn’t tall and blond,” he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She grinned and tossed her file at him.

“You bitch,” she admonished, but he could tell she liked him.

“Do you want us to try to cover these massive hickies on your neck?” Ksenia asked.

“Nope,” Yuri said, popping the p and stroking the bruise, letting his long fingers run down the length of his neck, admiring the spread of purple and red on his snow-pale skin.

“Alright,” she said easily. “Then we’re ready to go.”

They stepped out of the bathroom, knocking shoulders because of the sheer number of them, and poured back into the main room. Yuri immediately sought out his partner, even though Ksenia was still talking to him about something. He spotted Otabek, talking with Marcus over the armrests separating them, heads bent low. Yuri threw back the last of his drink and sashayed across the floor. He slid easily into Beka’s lap and smacked a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He heard Marcus get to his feet, saying something about lovebirds.

“Mm,” Otabek said, flicking out his tongue and tasting the gloss left on his lips. “Strawberry?”

“Mhm,” he hummed in answer, kissing him again. “I like your friends,” he admitted very quietly. “The girls are really cool and Marcus seems to like me.”

“Trust me,” he said, nudging their noses together as they whispered. “He _definitely_ likes you.”

“What were you two talking about?”

“How gorgeous you are,” he said readily, causing Yuri to blink in surprise.

“Oh. Really?”

“You look surprised.” He smirked at him. “Do I not tell you how pretty you are often enough?”

“More never hurts,” he said, flipping his hair over his shoulder regally.

“Then, get used to it, Blondie” Otabek said, quoting Marcus and quirking a small smile at him. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. People are going to notice you, too.”

“You all seem really close,” he said significantly. “You really talked to them about me? Like that?”

“Yeah, we talk about that kind of stuff.” Otabek shrugged like that wasn’t weird. “Mila doesn’t tell you about Sara? Guang-Hong doesn’t tell you about Leo?”

“Not really,” Yuri said, fiddling with the collar on Beka’s shirt. “I don’t really want to know that stuff.”

“Huh,” Otabek said, curving his mouth like he was surprised. “We all talk about that, compare notes, that kind of stuff. We always have. I’m not super close with everyone here, but Leena knows everything about me.”

Yuri realized that that must be what having a best friend is like, one that has been there since childhood. Otabek was his best friend. And he was his first, true best friend. The only people Yuri knew from his childhood were Grandpa, Yakov and Viktor. And he didn’t want to hear _anything_ about their sex lives.

“And,” Otabek continued, a smile in the corners of his mouth, “the second you get on the plane to leave, they’re going to ask me for every little detail of your trip.”

“Everything?” he squeaked.

“Everything,” the Kazakh confirmed.

“Like what?” His voice wobbled. “What will you tell them?” Otabek hummed as if thoughtful.

“I’ll tell them how quickly you blush when I kiss your neck,” he said, touching the bruise on his throat. “I’ll tell them how fucking loud you get, how easy you are to get going, how quickly you come.”

“God, Beka, don’t,” Yuri said, embarrassed.

“No, it’s so good, I love how I make you feel, how responsive you are,” Otabek pulled his face up into a kiss. Yuri didn’t have time to refute or deny before he was drug into another kiss, smearing his gloss and making him moan quietly in the back of his throat.

“Oh my god, guys, can’t you wait?” the boy from the triad asked, picking up their jackets from the chair by the door and tossing them to them.

“It’s my birthday,” Yuri said, flipping him off and kissing his boyfriend one last, lingering time. He swiped his thumb over his mouth to clean up the gloss. “I can do whatever I want.”

 

 

The cold air on the way to the club was bracing. Yuri wondered more than once if fishnets and shorts had really been the way to go. He wrapped his leather jacket closer around himself, which helped a little, but not more than Beka did when he slipped under his arm, slinging one arm around his waist and holding onto his hand with the other.

They promised him the walk wasn’t far, and Yuri watched as the city started showing more and more signs of life as they moved from Leena’s building to the downtown area. It was right at that hour where storefronts had already closed for the night and the bars and clubs were just starting to let people in, so the streets were still mostly quiet as they walked. There was a half Kazakh conversation floating around the group, something about how relieved they all were when Otabek stopped making angsty, pining mixes, even if the needy, overtly sexual ones that replaced them were just as problematic. Yuri was trying to follow along as best he could, without looking like he was hanging on every word. Otabek would whisper translations of particularly funny things in his ear.

They passed a side street of boutiques and bourgeois-looking stores. Yuri ground to a stop in front of one particular window display. Inside, a mannequin wore a silver sequined miniskirt, a blush top and a baby pink leather drawstring backpack, with white tiger stripe straps and pockets.

“That’s so fucking cute,” he said in awe, pointing so Otabek would see it.

“You want it?” the boy from the triad asked. Yuri thought his name was Aleksei.

“You could definitely pull off that skirt,” one of his girlfriends said encouragingly.

“I really just meant the backpack,” Yuri said, tilting his head, trying to imagine himself in a skirt. He turned to ask what Otabek thought, but the darkness of his pupils and the red tips of his ears answered that well enough.

“No, I’ll get you all of it,” she said with finality.

“Wait, what?” Before Yuri got an answer, Aleksei was boosting the tall girl up until she grabbed the top of the display’s windowsill. He directed her foot to his shoulder and let her push up off him to scramble up the building’s façade. Yuri watched with a gaping mouth as she scurried up and disappeared over the ledge of the roof. “What the fuck?”

Most of the Kazakh’s laughed, Marcus started cursing, saying that tonight was not a night he wanted to end in jail. Yuri was still gaping when the girl reappeared on the other side of the window, slinking around the inside of the dark store. She hopped up into the display and waved, a wide smile on her face.

“She’s getting good at that,” her boyfriend commented, his arm hooked around their other partner’s shoulders.

“Otabek, what the fuck?” Yuri asked with mounting concern as the girl inside started stripping the mannequin with efficient strokes, holding up the shoes laid in front for a judgment from her girlfriend. She shook her head and so she shrugged and dropped them, shoving the rest of the clothes into the backpack and scampering back to the back of the store and, presumably, the stairs she’d used to get inside from the roof.

“It’s okay, we know the owner,” Otabek said, shrugging like this happened all the time. “Ksenia used to date his daughter.”

“So you steal from him because of a bad break up?” Yuri asked, a clear note of judgment in his voice.

“No, we’re still friends,” Ksenia added. “He kicked her out for being bi, bruised her up pretty bad, too. We consider stealing from him as his donation to the queer community.” Yuri’s jaw snapped shut audibly, convinced.

“Fair enough,” he said, glaring at the storefront as if the owner would feel it.

“Oh look, I did this, too,” she said, grabbing the hand Otabek wasn’t holding and towing him to the mouth of the alley. A big piece of wall art featured prominently on the side of the building, the words “Queers Welcome” and “Free Blowjobs” spray-painted in huge, looping letters. Ksenia was cackling as she read it again. “He hates it so much,” she said. “Every time he repaints it, I come back and put something worse over top of it.”

Yuri laughed, a little scared and a little overwhelmed, but mostly giddy with excitement and the tangential taste of danger.

“You guys are awesome,” he said honestly, suitably impressed. Ksenia beamed and pulled him into a hug, one he didn’t expect and didn’t reciprocate. He still wasn’t used to being hugged.

“Here,” the tall thief said, tapping him on the shoulder. She handed him the backpack of stolen goods. “Happy birthday!” She beamed at him, and he smiled back, taking the bag with careful hands, like one might a bomb that could still explode at any moment.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling crookedly.

“Yuri, now you can put your lip gloss in there,” Leena called from where the rest of the group still occupied the sidewalk. “That way Beks won’t make you lose it when he shoves his hands in your pockets.”

Otabek barked a surprised laugh, nodding.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” he conceded. Yuri did exactly that, before swinging the bag over his shoulder and grinning at the trio.

Otabek reeled him back in as soon as he was close enough, pressing a kiss to the edge of his jaw before they started walking again.

“No wonder you’ve been arrested before,” Yuri said under his breath. Otabek just chuckled, not denying a thing.

The arrived at the club and there was already a line a block long.

“Wow, that’s a lot of people,” Yuri commented, a prickle of social anxiety resurfacing at the back of his neck.

“You’ve never been to a club before, have you, Yuri?” Paulo asked, and Yuri scowled at him, feeling like he was being made fun of, even if he was right.

“Don’t worry, tiger,” Leena said, patting his arm comfortingly. “We never wait in line.”

Sure enough, they walked right to the front, and the bouncer perked up at the sight of them, greeting Otabek in a fast string of heavily accented Kazakh. Otabek answered him in kind, and Yuri assumed he was being introduced, and he nodded to the bouncer when he looked him up and down. He turned back to Otabek and said something else with a booming laugh.

“He says you can do better,” Otabek translated, a wry smile on his face.

“He’s clearly never seen your dick,” Yuri answered easily, causing Leena to howl with laughter next to them. Otabek translated for the bouncer with a wide grin on his face, and the bouncer laughed, shaking his head, clearly convinced Otabek had made that up. He gave Otabek a hug punctuated with a hard thump on the back, before letting them in.

“Your boyfriend is hilarious,” the smaller girl from the triad said as she passed Otabek, winking at Yuri before the three of them beelined for a big, empty table in the VIP section. The person manning the velvet rope stopped them, but let them through when she jerked her thumb back to where Otabek stood with Yuri by the doorway.

“So what do you think?” Otabek said, gesturing at the club. “This is where I work most weekends.”

“It’s amazing,” Yuri said, taking in the pounding music, the violet UV lights lining the bar and dance floor, the DJ booth perched high on the wall above the mass of people moving below.

“Good,” Otabek said, looking very slightly proud. “The owner gave us the VIP section tonight for your birthday, and the second best DJ is spinning tonight.”

“What about the best one?” Yuri teased him.

“He’ll be dancing with you.” Yuri threw his head back and laughed, allowing Otabek to pull him towards the table his friends had already settled at. “Do you want a drink first?”

“Sure,” Yuri said, watching in poorly disguised awe as a stunningly tall woman sauntered to the table, a massive bottle on a tray in her hands, and sparklers clustered in the mouth of it. He wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a fire hazard, but if the club hadn’t burned down yet, it was probably fine.

“Happy Birthday,” she shouted over the noise of the club, setting the tray down and pouring shots for everyone, topping them each with whipped cream and sprinkles.

“You’re definitely spoiling me,” he shouted into Otabek’s ear, and Otabek just caught his smile in another kiss.

They broke away when the group around them shouted a loud Happy Birthday in Kazakh, each eagerly gripping a messily topped shot glass. Otabek grabbed one for himself and handed Yuri his. The bottle service woman had made one for herself and she counted to three, everyone downing their shot at once. The vodka burned but the whipped cream was sweet and when Yuri slammed his glass back down he leaned over and licked a sprinkle from his partner’s lip.

They did another round of shots, and if Yuri had counted his drinks at the apartment well, that made five drinks for him. He felt the pleasant haze of drunkness sinking into his skin and he leaned against Otabek’s side as Marcus shouted a story Yuri couldn’t understand from the other side of their round booth.

“Do you want to dance?” Otabek asked and Yuri nodded, already bobbing his head to the beat of the song thrumming through the crowd. Yuri slipped out of his backpack and jacket and tucked them under the table where they would be safe. Otabek stood and led him through the press of bodies, and at first, Yuri did not enjoy the unavoidable collisions with strangers. But within moments, they found a pocket of space in the mob, Otabek quickly pulling him in and spinning them around the small space. Yuri laughed, leaning against his partner, beginning to pick up the contact high of energy and exhilaration, the throb of the bass resetting his heart to beat in concert. He slid his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders, bending his knees enough to bring them close to level. Otabek stepped in to slot their legs together, his hands settling on his waist as they began to move.

The DJ was good. Quick beats got people moving, with smooth, slower transitions to give them all a chance to catch their breath. Yuri’s white shirt quickly became damp and see-through on his back and shoulders, the humid heat of so many bodies and the constant movement of dancing making him sweat. Otabek didn’t seem to mind, his hair sticking to the edges of his face as he slid his hands up the back of Yuri’s shirt, down into his back pockets.

Yuri scanned the crowd quickly and found Leena and Ksenia dancing front to back near them, and Marcus talking animatedly to Paulo near the bar. Looking towards the table, the triad and the other girl were still taking shots and throwing sprinkles at each other. Satisfied that they didn’t have too avid of an audience, Yuri threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of his partner’s head and pulled him into a deep kiss. Otabek groaned up into his mouth, hands gripping tightly through the pockets of his denim shorts.

Eventually, the set changed, the DJ going on break, and Otabek suggested they take a break as well. Yuri agreed, breathless, sweaty and thirsty. They walked back to the booth and Yuri sat down heavily, thighs beginning to heat from dancing. Otabek leaned in and spoke into his ear.

“I’m going to go see the DJ,” he shouted. “Are you okay for a little bit?”

Yuri nodded and Otabek kissed him swiftly before disappearing into the crowd. Yuri slid further into the booth and one of the girls from the triad extended a cup to him.

“Sprite and vodka,” she shouted at him. He nodded his thanks and drank greedily. She grinned, laughing at him as he wiped sweat from his face. She whispered something to Aleksei and he nodded, before sliding around the booth towards him.

“Want us to braid your hair? It’s got to be hot,” he asked once he was close enough to speak into Yuri’s ear. Yuri eyed him warily and the boy laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m good,” he promised. “I did Tatyana’s hair,” he gestured to the girl that had been sitting next to Marcus at the apartment. ‘ _That’s her name,’_ Yuri thought. He’d nearly forgotten her, but he definitely remembered the spiral of braids pinning her black hair up. Yuri nodded his assent and Aleksei’s partner scrambled over his lap, not even giving him the chance to stand up and let her out. She had just swung one leg over his waist, when she paused, straddling his lap.

“Do you like girls, Yuri?” she asked, and Yuri’s eyes widened. It seemed like she was going to sit on him until he answered.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, shrugging his shoulders. She grinned at him, and then Aleksei.

“If you decide you do, I’m sure Beks wouldn’t mind sharing you with Alia and I for a night,” she said, tilting her head to her girlfriend, watching them hungrily from the other side of the booth.

“Uh, okay,” Yuri said, not really sure what was happening. The girl pinched his cheeks together, squishing his lips up and pressing a kiss to the, before crawling over him and perching on his other side. She carefully worked around the braids already there, and her boyfriend started on the other side, as if his girlfriends hadn’t just propositioned him.

Before too long, the pair had worked to braid back the other side of Yuri’s head, and twisted the underside into a thick rope that they twisted around the rest to fashion a high ponytail.

“Perfect,” the girl decreed it, smacking a kiss to his cheek. He nodded his thanks and accepted another whipped cream shot from their other partner, who had taken pictures to show him how nice he looked. “Hey, you should probably go find Otabek,” she said into his ear. “Zola, the other DJ, she’s kind of obsessed with him. She’ll talk his ear off all night about set lists and mixes and stuff if you let her.” Yuri nodded, wiping sprinkles from his lips and thanking the three of them again before wading back out into the people.

It was a long ten minutes of searching before Yuri realized how pointless it was. With his boyfriend’s short stature and dark clothing choices, he wasn’t exactly easy to find in a crowd. Yuri decided to grab water from the bar and return to the table to wait. He was tall and blond; if Otabek was looking for him, he’d be easy to find.

He found a spot along the bar that wasn’t too crowded and leaned down on his forearms, taking a moment to stretch out his feet, rolling and flexing them one at a time. He saw a man down the bar eye him appreciatively, and he considered that his ass was probably pushed out in a manner than might be suggestive. He gave that guy a dismissive snort when they made eye contact, but grinned to himself when he stared down at the bar top, waiting for service.

It wasn’t long before someone came up to stand directly against him, a sweaty hand landing very, very hard on his ass, each fingertip digging into his flesh bruisingly hard, the impact stinging even through denim. Yuri instinctively jerked away

“Hey gorgeous,” a strange voice said in English, his lips touching his ear, his breath feeling wet. “I love a tall woman.”

Yuri shoved him off, filling with anger. He straightened up to his full height and knocked his hand off his ass before crossing his arms over his flat chest. He quirked a brow and stared the other man down.

“Seems like you love tall men, too,” he said smartly, and the man flushed with embarrassment and then anger in quick succession.

“Don’t dress like such a fucking queer,” the man sputtered, rearing back, bumping the person on the other side of him. “Freak.”

“Why not?” Yuri shouted back to him, not backing down. “I am a fucking queer. You seemed to like it a second ago.”

The man stepped towards him menacingly, and for a moment Yuri realized that this man might actually try to hit him. And if the sting in his ass was him being friendly, it would probably really hurt now that he was mad. He didn’t have time to react, or dodge, or even to do anything but watch. He had the fleeting thought that he was probably overdue, for being such an asshole all the time. Before the guy got too close, however, a spray of water caught him directly in the face, and like a cat squirted with a water bottle, he jerked back immediately. Yuri caught some splatter on his cheek and turned to see the bartender frowning at the other guy, the soda gun in her hand, primed for another spray. The other guy snarled and wiped off his face sullenly before disappearing back into the crowd.

“Thanks,” he said, still blinking in shock.

“No problem,” she said in heavily accented Russian. “You Otabek boyfriend?” Yuri nodded. “Vodka sprite?”

“Just water,” he said and she filled a cup. When he went to take it, she didn’t let go.

“You tell Otabek to watch,” she said, looking at him seriously. She gestured to the puddle of water still dripping off the bar from her defensive attack. “Dangerous for you. He was no good.” Yuri nodded, feeling a little bit of a chill in spite of the hot club as the adrenalin crashed in his blood.

He tried to sip his water while walking around the dance floor, but there were so many bodies around him he couldn’t move without spilling. He paused to gulp the cup down before ditching it on an empty table and wading in through the mass of bodies. He was about two thirds of the way to the table when he felt a hand close around his wrist. Still jumpy, he whipped around quickly and yanked his wrist away, before relaxing at the site of Otabek’s familiar frown.

“You okay?” he mouthed, hand still outstretched. Yuri nodded and reached out for him, grabbing his hand. Otabek took it and felt it trembling. He searched his face and his frown deepened. Yuri stepped closer, cupping the side of his neck so he could speak into his ear.

“Some guy grabbed me.” Otabek jerked away to frown at him even harder, looking him up and down. Yuri rolled his eyes and pulled him back in. “He thought I was a girl and smacked my ass. It’s not a big deal,” he lied. He could still feel the handprint under his clothes. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need some water?” His hands ran down Yuri’s sides, soothing him like he would a spooked animal. His touch helped erase a lot of the wrongness he felt sticking to his skin.

“No, I already got some,” he said, smiling at his boyfriend’s concern. “You know, the bartender recognized me. Exactly how many people did you tell about me?”

“Everyone,” Otabek admitted, looking a little more calm now that he was assured of his wellbeing. He thought about passing along the bartender’s warning, but he knew it would put him on edge and ruin the night. He knew if he stayed near Otabek, he’d be safe. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Don’t leave me again, and I will be,” Yuri said, trying for sultry but probably only sounding needy as he wound his arms around his partner’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Otabek said, pressing tightly against him, lips at his ear. “I was setting up a surprise for you.”

“Another one?” Yuri asked incredulously. Otabek just nodded with a gleam in his eye.

“Feel like dancing?” he asked.

“Always,” Yuri agreed readily, and stuck like glue to the Kazakh’s back as he led him back into the center of the dance floor, directly in front of the DJ booth. Otabek sent a text and then pulled Yuri in close. In just a few seconds, whatever song was playing started transitioning out. The DJ, a thick woman with violently purple hair spoke into the microphone, Kazakh washing over the audience, earning massive applause. Otabek translated in his ear.

“A special treat, from everyone’s favorite DJ, well, me,” he translated, sounding adorably proud. “She’s apologizing that I’m not up there. She says I’m in the crowd, dancing with the love of my life.” He kissed his cheek. “And then she said “A birthday mix for Yuri, who is one lucky bitch.”” Yuri laughed and Otabek glared up at the booth. “I promise, I didn’t ask her to say that last part.” Yuri just giggled again and pulled him into a messy kiss.

“Thank you,” he said, as a familiar bass dropped in the club, a remix spinning that Yuri knew Beka had been working on for months. It was low and pounding and the whole crowd immediately started rolling with it, long and slow as it built. He and Otabek immediately fell into an easy rhythm, a sensuous grind that was reminiscent of their first time. Yuri could barely believe that that was only this morning. Otabek touched his body like he’d had all his life to learn every curve; they moved together like they were born in sync, hearts beating in rhythm. Yuri looked down at him, lips parted as their bodies moved together. It was so much like fucking. It was all he could think about.

The song changed, and Otabek moved in his grip. He grabbed his hands where they were draped behind his neck and moved them to his hips, turning around in his grip and pressing his back to Yuri’s chest. Yuri sunk his teeth into Otabek’s neck to control the whimper trying to escape when he pushed his ass back against him, grinding in small circles. Palms sliding up over his broad chest, he couldn’t help but think about how that ass had swallowed his cock. Otabek tipped his head back against his shoulder, mouthing at the curve of his jaw as Yuri looked down the length of his body. He saw him growing hard in his jeans. He knew he couldn’t get fully hard without unzipping, but he slid his palm over the head anyway, giving it a teasing squeeze, his own dick throbbing sympathetically against his ass. When a chuckle washed over his neck, Yuri dropped both his hands to his inner thighs, curling over him so he could squeeze the muscles, feeling them flex as they danced together, knowing there were a dozen aching bruises just underneath. Otabek moaned in his ear and as soon as the song changed, Yuri was stepping around him, desperately slotting their hips together and catching his mouth in a brutal kiss.

If anyone had been watching, they would’ve looked away uncomfortably. Yuri slid his tongue into his mouth like he needed it to survive. Otabek’s hands clenched in the fishnet covering his lower back, popping a thread or two before running down over his ass to grip his thighs and yank him closer. They panted against each other’s mouths, wet with spit and swollen red, and Yuri pushed his hips like he wanted to occupy the same space as the other boy. Otabek’s hands made the bruise on his ass ache, but the feeling of his lips against his made it easy to pretend he left it there.

“Yes, Beka, fuck, babe,” he babbled, and hopefully it was lost in the pounding of the music. He knew Otabek felt his moan though, when he dug his fingers into his ass to grind him harder into his hip. He was hard, he was so fucking hard, and he knew if he pulled away, anyone would be able to see it in his shorts. He clung tighter to his partner, arms wound around his back, allowing him to support some of his weight so he could move his hips faster, fucking himself against the solid weigh of Otabek’s thick thigh, flexing and moving to the rhythm of a song mixed just for him.

Otabek dug his teeth into Yuri’s neck, sucking a new, fresh hickey that bloomed hotly over his skin. Yuri felt his dick pulse in his jeans and he knew in that instant that he could come, exactly like this. He set his hands on Otabek’s shoulders and pushed, trying to get enough space between them to suck in a breath that didn’t smell like Otabek and sweat and sex, trying to drag himself away from the edge.

“Stop, stop,” he gasped in his partners ear, rigidly holding his hips still, disrupting their sinful rhythm.

“What is it?” Otabek asked, detaching from his throat and looking at him with lust-glazed eyes.

“I’m going to come,” Yuri admitted, shivering down to his toes. “Seriously, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come right here.”

“Go ahead,” Otabek said, sweeping his hands up under Yuri’s shirt, feeling the sweat rolling down his back. “You can come on me.”

“People will see,” Yuri whined, burying his face in his shoulder, hips beginning to jerk again, out of his control.

“You’re gorgeous when you come,” he mumbled to him, or at least that’s what Yuri thought he heard, under the crash of the bass. “It’s your birthday, you can come whenever you want.”

“ _Beka_.” He was close to giving in, fingers clenching and relaxing on his shoulders, indecision keeping him on edge.

“Do it,” Otabek said, putting his lips directly on his ear so he could hear him perfectly. “Come right here, on my dance floor, so I can look out here while I’m at work and remember the day I made you come in front of everyone in this club.”

With those words ringing through his head, it only took a few hard rolls of his hips before he was coming against his thigh, shooting into his shorts and drowning his moan in the music. The wave of bliss from this orgasm was much shorter lived than the others, and Yuri wondered if it was possible run out of endorphins. The fact that he was standing and surrounded by strangers might have contributed something as well. Still, his legs felt rubbery and he leaned heavily on his partner, exhausted.

After a few moments of gentle swaying, Otabek pulled him into a sweet kiss and started guiding him off the dance floor. Yuri followed mindlessly, willing to follow wherever he might take him. Otabek led him to their booth, empty except for them, empty shot glasses littering the damp tabletop.

Shifting to sit down drew attention to the cold slime in his briefs, and he looked around for a bathroom. He saw one, a doorway in the corner of the club nearest them. “Bathroom, be right back.”

He pissed and did his best to clean the come from his shorts with tissue. It was still a little damp, but at least not sickeningly so. Out of curiosity, he turned in the bathroom mirror and looked at his ass, pulling his briefs to the side, ignoring the concerned looks he got from the other man washing his hands at the sink. Sure enough, there was a red palm print on his cheek, three fingertip marks still darkening his skin, and it wasn’t from Otabek. Yuri scowled at him, displeased to be wearing a mark his partner hadn’t left on him.

He returned to booth, sitting down heavily and leaning against his partner.

“This was an amazing birthday,” he said quietly. “I had no idea you would do all this.”

“Well you told me I couldn’t buy you a present,” Otabek said with a shrug. “So I did this instead.”

“It’s perfect,” he said, turning to his partner. “You’re perfect.” Their shared kiss was slow and unhurried, without intent or impatience. They sat quietly together for a few minutes, foreheads pressed together, sharing breath and small kisses. As Yuri closed his eyes and relaxed, the events of the past two days began to catch up to him. With the exhausting plane ride, followed by marathon sex, even with the few hours of sleep he’d grabbed, he was tiring early. “What time is it?”

“Just past midnight,” Otabek said, checking his clunky watch.

“Wanna hang out for another hour and then head home?”

“You trying to leave your own party early?” Leena teased him, sliding into the booth across from them, the two girls from the triad along with her. Yuri gave her a flat look.

“I’ve come seven times today. I am _exhausted._ ”

She tossed her head back and laughed, and Yuri let a small smile grace his features.

“One more drink and one more set?” she bartered. “Then Ksenia and I will probably be ready to walk home with you. You can get a taxi from the apartment.”

“Yeah, one more drink,” Yuri said, grateful for the water he’d gulped down earlier. They got another bottle, on the house Otabek assured him, and each took another shot, spraying the last of the whipped cream directly into their mouths. Leena led Yuri to the dance floor by the hand, Otabek trailing behind him with a hand on his hip. Leena held his hand high and spun under his arm, pulling him into a surprisingly skillful dance. Before long, other members of their group found them in the crowd and they danced for long enough that Yuri was coated in a fresh wave of sweat and his clothes were sticking to him from more than come.

The music was winding down, growing slower and heavier again, and Otabek drew him in, pulling him flush against his chest. Yuri had to bend his knees even further to bring his ass level to his hips, but it was worth it to feel his partner grinding against him, hands sliding indulgently over his hips, thighs and bare stomach. Otabek’s hips ground forward a little ahrder than Yuri was grinding back, and he remembered that Otabek hadn’t come all evening. He’d been waiting for so long.

As the set drew to a close, Otabek slid one hand up his bruised neck to twist his head into a backwards kiss, one Yuri melted into.

“You ready to go?” he asked against his lips, and Yuri nodded. They disentangled themselves and began pushing towards the table. Otabek signaled briefly to Leena and Ksenia, and the two women followed in their wake. Yuri grabbed his backpack from under the table, and Ksenia grabbed the half full bottle from the top. Marcus spotted them from the crowd and waved his goodbye.

Stepping out of the doors was like stepping into a cold shower after practice. Yuri took in a deep, cleansing breath and felt the sweat everywhere on his body cooling rapidly. Otabek grabbed his hand, and he smiled at him, head loose with a pleasant level of drunkenness. Their hands swung between them as they walked down darkened streets.

They were only a few minutes away from the club, on a dark, empty side street, when Yuri heard a distressingly familiar voice.

“Hey, that’s the one. The little tranny princess that tried to trap me.”

Yuri’s back straightened and went stiff.

“He sure looks like a girl. Maybe we should make sure,” another voice said, closer than the last one. They spoke in a foully accented English that made Yuri’s skin crawl.

“Yuri,” Otabek said lowly, clearly sensing danger.

“That’s the guy who slapped my ass,” he answered just as quietly, trying to fight the anger welling in him. He held an obscene hand gesture over his shoulder without turning around.

“Hey, pretty thing, why don’t you slow down so I can check you for a cunt,” that voice yelled, from just a few paces behind them. At that, Yuri whipped around, snarling.

“Why don’t you just suck my dick instead?” he spat, fighting the hard, restraining grip Otabek had on his hand.

“What the fuck did you say to me?” the new guy growled, walking faster to close the distance between them. Yuri didn’t back down. This new guy was bigger than the man who hit him in the club, who was hot on his heels, that same look of anger on his face as before.

“I said, if you're so curious about your sexuality, why don’t you get on your knees and suck my dick?”

He saw the hit coming, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Otabek yanked him back at the last second, so what could’ve broken his nose just glanced off his cheek instead, but the impact was still jarring. He stumbled back a few steps, hand on his face, furious. He hadn’t been hit in the face since he’d left his mother’s house.

Small hands were on him nearly immediately as Ksenia and Leena pulled him back, out of the way. Out of Otabek’s way.

He didn’t know anything about fighting, so he couldn’t tell if Otabek was trained in martial arts or not. All he knew was that he moved like music.

When the man who punched Yuri stepped after him, with a furious gleam in his eyes, Otabek grabbed him by the front of the shirt and tugged him down and off balance, so the punch to the face he delivered sent him careening to the ground. The guy from the club stepped forward and caught Otabek with a hard hit in the jaw. Otabek brushed it off and landed a bruising jab to the ribs. When he doubled over, Otabek brought his elbow down hard over his ear.

Before he could straighten up, the first guy was back on his feet and lurching after him. Leena rushed in front of him, ducking under his fists and stretching her leg out behind her to trip him. He fell like a tree, and Otabek grabbed his shoulder to roll him onto his back. He swung up at him a few times, catching Otabek around the ribs and stomach as he planted a knee on his chest.

Yuri heard the _smack crack_ of Otabek’s fist hitting his face and the back of his head colliding with the sidewalk.

“Are you sorry?” Otabek asked him, in a calm and dangerous voice.

“Fuck you and your boypussy girlfriend,” he spat. _Smack crack_ , and he spit out a tooth.

“Are you sorry?” he asked again, his voice just as low, like he could do this all night. The guy opened his bloody mouth to say something else, but his friend spoke up.

“We’re sorry,” he said, standing holding one hand to his ear, the other held up in supplication.

“I don’t think you are,” Otabek said, standing up, seemingly confident that the man bleeding from the mouth was no longer a threat. He seemed to be right, though Yuri kept his eyes on him as he slowly rolled onto his side away from Otabek.

“Look, man, I’m not even the one who hit him,” he insisted, flickering his eyes to Yuri, as if he was looking for support.

“You slapped my ass so hard it bruised,” Yuri spat at him.

Otabek turned his head to look at him, eyebrows raised nearly imperceptibly.

“You have a bruise?” Yuri nodded. Otabek’s gaze darkened with fury. If he’d been angry before, he was a fucking storm now. He swung back to the guy fist first.

The punch caught him off guard, and he was a fucking fool for thinking that it wasn’t coming. He wobbled but he didn’t go down, throwing a few useless jabs back as Otabek continued delivering precise punch after punch.

He was angry, that was clear, but he wasn’t out of control. He wasn’t yelling, or being reckless, or letting his emotions take over his rationality. No, it was scarier than that. Each punch, each jab, each hit was perfectly controlled. He moved with brutal efficiency, not a single move wasted. A furious Otabek wasn’t a reckless one, it was simply one without mercy.

As soon as the man stopped trying to hit him back, and held his arms up only in an effort to protect his face, Otabek stopped. He knelt astride his wheezing form and watched him carefully for a moment, perhaps deciding if he had had enough or not. Then he spoke.

“You left _your_ handprint on _my_ boyfriend,” he said, sounding as if he weren’t even out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, without prompting.

Otabek stood up, and the man rolled onto his stomach. He started crawling towards where the other guy had propped himself against a wall of the building, his jacket balled up and pressed to a cut on his brow bone.

“Yura,” Otabek called, watching the man crawl slowly. “Which hand?”

“What?” Yuri asked, feeling breathless enough for the both of them. Otabek met his wide-eyed, pink-cheeked stare with one that was cool and collected.

“Which hand did he hit you with?” he asked, his voice just as calm as before.

“Uhh,” Yuri said, thinking about the shape of the bruise, the way he’d been standing and the side of him the man had approached from. “The right, I guess.”

Otabek covered the distance the man had crawled in three long strides. He brought his heel down hard on the man’s right hand, and didn’t so much as flinch when he screamed.

Yuri’s heart was racing when Otabek walked back towards where he and the girls were waiting. He touched his fingertips to his cheek, careful over his bruised and swollen skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Yuri shook his head, feeling like his skin was on fire. “Show me where it hurts.”

Wordlessly, Yuri took one of his hands from his face and brought it down to where his dick was pressing hot and full against the zipper of his shorts. Yuri felt blood slicking the back of his hand and his cock twitched.

“Fuck, Yuri,” he groaned, immediately squeezing his cock. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Yuri whispered. “That was so fucking hot. God, I want you so bad right now.”

Otabek just groaned, catching his lips in a bruising kiss and walking him backwards until they met the side of the building.

“We’re just going to go,” Leena called. They didn’t pull away from each other. Otabek was already yanking apart his fly.

“Good night, boys,” Ksenia shouted after them.

Yuri shrugged out of his backpack, dropping it heedlessly to the ground and allowing his partner to flatten him to the wall, shoving his thigh between his knees. Yuri spread his legs eagerly, sliding down the wall until his boyfriend didn’t need to look up to kiss him.

“Fucking queers,” they heard. Otabek pulled away from his lips to glare at the men slowly staggering to their feet.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he said incredulously. “We’re using this wall.”

Fortunately, they turned and left instead of attacking again, because Yuri didn’t think he could let go of Otabek if he tried.

“That was the most sexy thing you’ve ever done,” he confessed, pushing his tights and briefs down around his thighs, not caring for a moment that this was a public street, or that the storefront could have surveillance cameras.

“I rode your dick this morning,” he said, as if Yuri could forget.

“I know,” he said, nodding his head, feeling light-headed from all the blood rushing south. “This was hotter, this was way hotter.” He brought his other hand to the back of his neck, pressing them tightly together, foreheads touching. “You were brutal, so fucking strong and, and, and dangerous. All for me,” he said, gasping as Otabek started working over his cock. “All for me.”

“You like that, love?” he asked teasingly, tilting his head, drawing all of Yuri’s attention to the cocky smile on his face. “That made you hard? Watching me save your ass?”

“Yes,” he hissed, pushing into his fist. His hands scrabbled uselessly on his shoulders.

“Fuck, you can’t even wait until we get home,” Otabek said worshipfully.

“No, no,” Yuri panted quickly. “I can’t wait, I need you right now. _Fuck,_ you looked so fucking good like that.”

Otabek worked his hand easily over his cock, already seeming to know exactly how to touch him. Yuri thrust his hips into his grip, and his knuckles left a trail of blood down the center of his stomach, catching in the blond hair. Yuri’s cock pulsed precome at the site, and he grabbed his wrist and purposefully drug his broken skin over the pale expanse of his abs, watching it smear with an open mouth.

“Harder,” Yuri gasped, fucking his hips uncoordinatedly into his fist. “I want it harder.”

“You want it rough, kitten?” Otabek asked, his voice low and dangerous as his fist tightened cruelly and started jerking him faster. “I can do rough.”

He bit him, hard on the side of the neck, jerking his cock hard. In two shudders of his racing heart, Yuri was coming, biting down harshly on his own arm to keep from making any noise that might attract attention to their quiet street.

“Fuck, babe,” Otabek said, voice tinged with disbelief. “You haven’t been that desperate for me since I had my tongue in your ass.”

“Always,” Yuri corrected him, still breathing hard. “I’m always like this for you.”

Otabek kissed him quiet before pulling away to shake the come off his hand. There wasn’t a lot, and in three strong shakes, it had mostly splattered to the ground.

“Let’s get home,” he said, grabbing his backpack from the ground and swinging it up over his shoulder.

“Wait,” Yuri said, catching him by the front of his jeans. His dick drew a thick line in the fabric. “Let me make you come.”

“Kitten,” Otabek said, leaning back into his space until his mouth was all he could focus on. “The things I want to do, we can’t do here on the street.”

 

 

The taxi ride home was exactly like Yuri had imagined his first night here might be like. Yuri couldn’t keep his hands off him. He draped himself over his back while he hailed it, he sucked on his ear while he gave the address, he wrapped his hand around his cock through his jeans on dark streets. When the taxi came to a halt in traffic, Yuri whispered a quiet “fuck it,” and slid into Otabek’s lap, ignoring the driver completely. She mumbled something in Kazakh and Otabek chuckled against his lips.

“What?” Yuri asked, barely taking the time between kisses to speak the whole word.

“She said she doesn’t blame you,” he translated, not even having the decency to blush.

“That’s right,” Yuri said between kisses. “Because you’re fucking perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.” Yuri spread his legs, bringing their cocks together through their jeans, and Otabek slipped his thumb into his mouth just before he could let out an obscene sound. He curled his thumb, hooking it around the bottom row of teeth and using it to pull his mouth back into a kiss.

The rest of the ride was lost to panting and light sucking sounds as the pair refused to come up for air. The driver was silent save for the one time Otabek accidently kicked the back of her seat when Yuri rolled his hips a little too well. When she pulled up to Otabek’s apartment building, Yuri climbed out first, waiting impatiently as Otabek fished out his wallet and paid, offering a generous tip as well. As soon as the door was closed and his bruised hands were empty, Yuri filled them, pressing back into his space like he never wanted to leave. Otabek kissed him indulgently, walking him backwards up the sidewalk to the doors of the building.

Inside the elevator, Yuri found himself pressed to the wall again, his head tilted up against the stainless steel, watching it fog slightly as Otabek sucked a throbbing bruise under his jaw. He ran his hand down over his fishnet-covered thigh, before hiking it up to curl around his waist. When the doors opened, he grabbed the other one, too, picking him up easily and carrying him to the apartment.

“Someone this tall should not be this easy to carry,” Otabek mumbled against his lips as he leaned him against the door to the apartment to get his keys out. Yuri was no help at all, sucking at his lips, pulling on his hair and rolling his hips against his strong, cut stomach.

Inside the apartment, he made a straight course for the bed, dropping Yuri down on it and watching him bounce. The Russian scrambled back, climbing farther up the bed until he could reach the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on so he could see. Otabek looked amazing. The left side of his face was slightly swollen and clotted with light red and brown bruising. The backs of his hands were dark with a thin sheen of sweat and blood, darker still with glistening scabs over his knuckles where his skin broke. Yuri watched the play of muscles in his torso as he pulled his shirt over his head, and he found a few bruises there, too.

Still in awe of his partner, Yuri watched dumbly as he shucked his jeans, pushing them down with his sinfully small briefs down to his ankles, kicking out of them and his boots in the same, practiced motion. Leisurely trailing his gaze up from his bruised and bitten thighs, over his shiningly hard cock, Yuri eventually made it back to the cocky smirk on his face. Otabek quirked a brow and grabbed his cock, the unspoken “ _Like what you see?”_ clear and smug. Yuri just let his mouth fall open, his tongue peaking out over his bottom lip. The smirk dropped from Otabek’s face and he grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him back down the bed, climbing up to kneel between his legs.

He pulled him out of his shirt none too gently, before yanking his shorts down over his hips without even unzipping them. He paused at the tights, and Yuri considered the picture he made, especially when Otabek brought one of his legs up to rest on his shoulder, turning his nose in against the inside of his knee. Fishnets wrapped around the middle of his stomach, covering his legs and disappearing into his black and white Chucks, still covering his feet. Black briefs clung to his hard cock under the tights, drying blood painted his stomach, and he reached up to release some of the braids holding his hair in a ponytail, letting at least the top half fall free.

“You look like sin,” was all Otabek said, and Yuri thought that that summed it up pretty nicely.

It took mere moments for Otabek to strip him completely naked, and when Yuri rolled his hip to the side so he could get both his feet out of the wadded mess of briefs and tights, Otabek growled, pulling them off himself and shoving his knees back apart. Otabek pressed himself into the space of his spread thighs, his hips and his hard, hard cock pushing heavily against where Yuri was spread and vulnerable. His hands held his legs apart, curled over the delicate tendons that were starkly defined in the backs of each of his knees. He had the terrifying thought that it would only take a single movement for his partner to push his knees up, exposing his hole and shove his cock in. It made him shiver, and unconsciously, his knees pushed up against his hands, as if to close them. Otabek held them, firmly, pushing back out for an instant, before releasing them and folding down over him, having apparently looked his fill at his blushing, spread, whorish figure.

He kissed Yuri like he was trying to hurt him and Yuri let him, opening his mouth as wide as he was directed, letting him bite at every bit of his skin he could reach.

“Fuck, Yura,” Otabek groaned, after digging a nasty bruise into his shoulder. “I-I don’t know what to say to explain,” he said before trailing off and Yuri took a selfish pleasure in not being the only one who was a stuttering mess in this bed today. “No one is ever going to touch you in a way you don’t like. You’re mine, and, and,” he trailed off, as if lost, as if he didn’t have the words for what he was feeling.

Yuri fisted both hands in his hair, squeezing his ribs with his knees. He pulled his head away from his skin, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“You _love me,_ ” he told him. “You love me.” He said it again, shaking his head slightly by the grip in his hair, forcing him to understand.

“Yes,” Otabek agreed, though it wasn’t a question. Yuri already knew. “I love you.” The kiss that followed wasn’t any slower, wasn’t any more tender for the declaration. Love was a foregone conclusion at this point, saying it didn’t change the burning heat under their skin and the rapid skitter of adrenalin filling their blood.

“What do you want?” Yuri asked, pulling apart, letting his hips roll lazily under his partner. He’d come so many times today, even though his skin felt alight and electric and his cock was already hard, the need to come wasn’t aching, wasn’t the only thing in his head. “Whatever you want,” he promised, dragging his teeth over the curve of his ear. “My hero,” he said, only half-jokingly. Otabek chuffed a strangled laugh anyway before burying his face in Yuri’s chest, rubbing his cheeks over his lightly defined pecs, his stubbly chin leaving prickles along the way.

“I want to finger you,” he said quietly, as if speaking to his nipple and not the whole boy. Yuri sucked in a gasp, thighs tensing around him. “Tomorrow, I’ll take it slow, teach you how to do it yourself, but right now, I just really want to know what you feel like inside,” Otabek pushed onto his elbows, making Yuri look at him as he kept going, his voice a teasing whisper. “And I need to hear the sounds you make when I find your prostate. And I need to know how quick or how slow you’ll come with me inside you.”

Yuri bit his lips against a moan as he let his legs fall open around his partner’s waist.

“Yeah,” he said, too easily. But the alcohol and adrenalin in his blood lessened the anxiety from before, and the knowledge that Otabek would break his hands keeping Yuri safe and happy made it easy to say yes.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” Otabek said, as if he needed more convincing. “I’ll use one or two, I won’t stretch you more than I need to, and if you don’t like it, I’ll stop right away.”

“Fine, fine,” Yuri said, running his hands restlessly down his upper arms, more soothed by his promises than he wanted to let on. “Just show me how it’s supposed to feel.”

Yuri let his head fall back against the pillows, eyes drifting closed for a moment of calm while Otabek got out the lube and began warming it on his fingers. When Otabek’s hand came to rest on his hip, Yuri pushed up on his elbows, flexing his hips and thighs to bring his legs perpendicular out from his body, spreading them so Otabek could sit perfectly in between.

“Ready?” Otabek asked, already sliding a slick finger around his rim. It was warm, and felt a little like how his tongue had, so Yuri nodded.

The first finger felt like pressure, sliding in slowly and smoothly, until Yuri had taken it all. It felt big inside him, solid and unmoving, and Yuri felt as though he couldn’t move around it, like it was pinning his hips from the inside. He let his head fall back between his shoulders and panted at the ceiling. Otabek slipped it in and out of him a few times, and the way his tight rim caught and drug over his knuckles felt strange and vaguely filthy. It didn’t hurt, it just felt big. Otabek wrapped his other hand around his cock and Yuri realized he was still rock hard, the head beginning to weep, so he must feel good.

He lay back against the pillows and tried to stop thinking, stop trying to categorize the sensation and just listen to what his body was enjoying. He could save the analysis, the awareness, for tomorrow. Tonight he just wanted the pleasure.

He watched the ceiling with wide eyes as the finger inside him stroked over his walls, quiet save for his occasional gasp and his boyfriend’s near-silent exhales.

“How do I feel?” he asked, after a few moments.

“фажайып,” Otabek murmured, and Yuri looked down to see him watching his finger, staring at the push and pull of his pink hole as he worked it. And watching him watching his own hand, seeing the naked lust on his face, made that full feeling that much more erotic. Growing brave, Yuri moved his hips, pushing back against the finger pressing him open. Otabek moaned, brokenly, when his ass butted against the busted skin of his knuckles. He squeezed his muscles, hard, around the intrusion, and that pressure made his nerves light up, a moan bubbling out of his throat.

“Are you going to use another?” he asked, hips moving restlessly now, of their own volition.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, and then another was pushing in, just as slow as the first but feeling so much faster. Yuri groaned, feeling his nerve-endings responding to the stretch, little tingles of agitation chasing up his spine, stoking the heat in his belly. It hurt, it really did, the stretch felt like too much, and his hips didn’t know if they wanted to escape or not. It was just like when Otabek rode his cock right after coming. It hurt, it was too much, part of him wanted to get away, but it was _good._

“Are you okay?” Yuri nodded furiously, his lip going pale between his teeth he was biting it so hard. “Can I move them?” Otabek asked, his other palm tracing slow patterns on his stomach. Yuri nodded, but didn’t wait for him to move, instead he fisted his hands in the sheets and started moving his hips himself. Otabek groaned and moved with him, taking his fingers away before pushing them back in, sliding luxuriously over the inside of his walls.

Otabek let him explore for a few minutes, before he put a restraining and on his hip. He waited for Yuri to calm and be still, whimpering, before he started fucking him in earnest, fingers curled, long strokes and a smooth rhythm that left the younger boy quivering. It was on the first couple deep strokes inside him that he brushed something that made Yuri cry out.

It felt like electric shocks at first, ones that Yuri’s hips immediately pushed into. He was making some embarrassingly loud noise, but he didn’t care because then those fingers were back on that spot, and this time they pressed and rubbed and stroked, and Yuri didn’t know it would be this good. Suddenly Yuri felt like they’d never slowed down, that Otabek hadn’t taken his time with this, that they were still in the whirlwind of motion that they’d started in the taxi. He began to move like it again.

“Fuck, that’s perfect,” he heard Otabek moan, watching as Yuri writhed on his fingers, pushing his ass over his hand again and again.

“Beka,” Yuri panted, reaching down, suddenly feeling shaken and needy. He wrapped one hand around Otabek’s neck, cupping his nape, and wrapped the other hand around Otabek’s wrist, pushing him more firmly into him, holding him still so he could ride his fingers better. “Fuck, I had no idea.”

“Is it good, kitten?” Otabek asked, leaning over him as if he didn’t know.

“Yes,” Yuri hissed through gritted teeth. “It’s so good.”

“You want me to fuck you some more or do you just want to ride my fingers like this?” Yuri tossed his head back and groaned again, unable to properly form an answer to such a filthy question. His hips did the talking for him, continuing to roll, aided by the slow and steady flexing of Otabek’s fingers inside him, allowing him to find a rhythm that made his dick _pour._

Content to let him use his fingers, Otabek dropped his mouth back to his cock, and suckled him sweetly, lapping up the mess he was making. His hand rested innocently on his hip, and Yuri looked down, moaning at the site of his bloodstained skin juxtaposed with his snow-pale, unbruised stomach.

Yuri released his wrist to thread his fingers through the other hand, letting them both rest on his hip. Otabek took his release as permission to start fucking him, slow and firmly, drawing his fingers out over his prostate before shoving them back in.

“You said you knew how to throw a punch,” he said, breathlessly.

“What?” his partner asked, sounding dazed and distracted as he focused on fucking him.

“At the party, Leo’s party, you said you knew how to punch someone without breaking your hand.” Yuri ran his fingertips gently over the swelling, cracked skin of his knuckles.

“I was mad,” Otabek said, sucked kisses into his splayed open thighs. “I hit that one guy too hard, too many times. It’s fine.”

“Does it hurt?” Yuri asked suddenly, staring at the ceiling as he was overwhelmed with sensation, adrenalin and alcohol and endorphins filling his body, making him feel light-headed and giggly and very slightly out of control.

“Does what hurt?” Otabek asked, mouthing at the side of his cock.

“Your hand,” Yuri said insistently. “Does it hurt to fuck me like this, on your broken hands?” He squeezed Otabek’s hand where he held it, pushing his fingertips down on his busted and bloody knuckles. Otabek growled, pushing his hips against the bed, hard enough to shake it, fucking him harder.

“ _Yes,_ ” he hissed, his jaw clenched. “It fucking hurts.”

“Good,” Yuri gasped, before coming on the next stroke of Otabek’s bloody, aching fingers, shooting over his mouth and cheeks.

“You know,” Otabek said good-naturedly, wiping come out of his eyelashes so he could glare at him. “There’s an etiquette for that.” He caught the come clinging to his cheeks and brought it to his mouth, licking his finger clean.

“You really get off on being hurt,” Yuri giggled, feeling light-headed and wiped out from yet another orgasm. He was beginning to feel genuinely delirious from endorphin rush after endorphin rush, and he was sure his pelvic floor would be legitimately sore tomorrow. Still, he smiled at his partner’s come-covered face with a dopey grin, before he turned onto his stomach, dislodging his fingers, and pushing his ass into the air.

“You can fuck me,” he said, feeling loose and ready and so fucking relaxed he could collapse and sleep for twelve days.

Otabek just laughed at him, crawling over his body and lying on him, pushing his knees out from under him and flattening him out on the bed.

“You’re not ready for that,” he said, his chest rumbling against Yuri’s back, and he decided he really loved lying like this.

“I am,” he argued, spreading his thighs and pushing his ass back against Otabek’s dick, pressing massive and thick against his crease.

“You’re not,” he assured him, moving his hips anyway, grinding against his plush ass. “But I want to fuck your thighs, if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Yuri said, giving in easily, feeling like he could spend the rest of his life pressed to a bed with Otabek’s chest holding him down.

The cold squeeze of lube between his thighs was shocking, and his eyes shot open from their half-lidded stare. Otabek’s hand followed the chill, spreading the slick between his thighs, over the bottom of his asscheeks and forward over his red, puffy hole and his empty balls. Yuri groaned at that, pushing into the strange sort of massage. Otabek leaned his forehead on the nape of his neck, both hands coming down to bracket his hips as he shifted his hips to drop his cock between Yuri’s legs.

“Cross your ankles for me, kitten,” Otabek said, and Yuri did as he was told, squeezing a harsh exhale out of his boyfriend as he tightened up around his dick. When the Kazakh thrust his hips, Yuri felt the impact along his whole body, pushing him into the bed.

“Oh,” he gasped.

“Is this okay?” Otabek said, his voice sounding like it was just on the edge of breaking, and if Yuri said no, he’d break down in tears.

“This is awesome,” Yuri answered honestly, and Otabek huffed a stressed sounding laugh before beginning to move his hips again. “Is this what it would feel like to get fucked?” Otabek didn’t answer, just growled a tortured sounding growl and fucked against him harder. “Fuck, Beka, you haven’t come since you fucked yourself on my dick this morning,” Yuri said, the rhythm of his voice a little choppy from the impact of Otabek’s hips shoving him into the bed. “You didn’t come when you sucked me off in the hallway, or when you got me off on the dance floor, or after you fucked those guys up.” Otabek whimpered against his head, pushing his face into the hair at the side of his head, panting into his braids. “You must be so fucking _full_ ,” Yuri said, voice thick with awe. He could feel his cock drag along his sensitive inner thighs, the swell of his ass, and occasionally even his loose, open hole. “All that come, just waiting for me.” Otabek grunted, fucking his hips forward hard enough to sting Yuri’s skin, making the bruise on his ass ache. “I’m going to be drenched,” he said wonderingly, letting his cheek drag against the sheets as Otabek pounded against him. “Are you going to give it to me?” he teased. “Are you going to cover me in your come? Fuck my virgin ass full?” His rhythm stuttered when he released his hip with one hand, propping his elbow up by Yuri’s face, the other arm scooping under Yuri’s hips to hold him tightly against his cock, moaning brokenly in his ear. “You close, Beka? You sound like you’re close.”

Otabek nodded, his face pressing into his hair, huffing little grunts pushed out of his nose with every thrust, his hands spasming where it held his hip and fisted in the bedsheet. Yuri reached out and grabbed the one by his face, squeezing cruelly over his knuckles, feeling fresh blood slip under his palm, and Otabek came against him, gasping into his hair and spraying his ass and thighs with come.

“Mhmm,” Yuri hummed, feeling Otabek shaking against his back. Come was dripping down his balls. “I was right,” he said. “There was a lot.”

“Who the fuck taught you to talk like that?” Otabek panted, rolling off him to flop onto his back, covering his face with his bruised hands.

“You did,” Yuri said with an air of obviousness. “This morning.” Otabek looked at him like he was genuinely afraid of him.

“I’ve created a monster.”

Yuri just grinned.

 

After long minutes of Otabek catching his breath, his body still trembling, pushing away Yuri’s curious hands as they poked and prodded at him, he stood to get out of bed. He was shaky on his feet, and Yuri whined, wiggling towards him across the bed.

“Stop moving,” Otabek said, planting a hand on his back. “You’re going to get come everywhere.”

“Don’t go,” Yuri said petulantly, poking out his lip, rubbing his cheek against Otabek’s pillow like an actual kitten.

“Do you want to sleep covered in come and lube?” Otabek asked, and Yuri pouted some more, muttering a quiet “no,” and letting his partner walk around the bed and disappear into the bathroom. While he listened to the sounds of him running water until it was warm and finding a fresh wash cloth, Yuri let his hand slide over the thick gloss of come covering his skin. It was hot and slick, and Yuri was beginning to understand why Otabek liked to eat it and play with it so much.

His hole felt oddly empty. It didn’t have Otabek’s fingers in it, but he still remembered the shape of them. He slid one come-covered finger inside himself curiously, and found his rim was a little tender.

Otabek reappeared in the doorway and groaned.

“You’re fucking insatiable,” he said, like he hadn’t made him this way.

“Will you lick your come out of my ass?” he asked, the cocktail of chemicals in his blood making him feel invincible and uninhibited.

“Yeah, okay,” Otabek replied immediately. He dropped the wet flannel on the floor and climbed back onto the bed, grabbing Yuri by the back of the knees and pushing them up until they were under his hips, raising his ass off the bed. Yuri arched his back and moaned as his tongue swept all the way up his thigh to circle around his asshole, slurping as he swallowed.

The gentle bath over his thighs and ass helped ground him, and the massage of his tongue over his hole helped dispel some of the soreness there. Before long, Yuri was a humming puddle of bones, held up only by Otabek’s hands. Once the slick covering his skin was more lube then come, Otabek leaned back over the bed and grabbed the small cloth, now cool, and cleaned him up completely. Yuri shivered, moaning gently at being so well taken care off.

“There,” Otabek said, licking his lips and sucking a hickey over one of the fingerprint bruises left on his ass. “All clean.”

Yuri rolled back over and lazily stroked his half hard cock. Otabek smiled at him tiredly, his mouth swollen.

“Do you want an even ten?” he asked and Yuri nodded happily, heaving himself up and clambering into his partner’s lap. Otabek huffed and sat crosslegged on the bed, letting Yuri straddle his lap and wrap his arms around his neck.

“Like this,” he said, pushing his hips forward until Otabek got the hint and wrapped a hand around his cock. He was pretty sure it would take a while, but he wasn’t in a hurry. He had the rest of his life with this boy.

“You’re feeling good, aren’t you?” Otabek teased him, bumping their noses together.

“The best,” Yuri answered seriously, kissing him sloppily.

“You really think you can come again?” Otabek asked gamely. His fist twisted over the head of his cock.

“With your hands looking like that, definitely.” Otabek had washed his hands in the bathroom, so most of the blood was gone, leaving behind the red and brown bruises blooming over the back of his hands, and the red lines of torn skin radiating out over his knuckles. They were freakishly beautiful, looking more like art than anything Yuri had ever seen on the ice.

“What part of this do you like?” Otabek asked, pressing kisses to his cheek absently. He kept touching him, like he would be willing to sit here and stroke him for as long as it took.

“I like how it looks. Badass and brutal,” he said, looking away from where he was letting one fingertip brush over his broken skin. He traced a few bruises dotting his boyfriend’s torso, the ones not left by his mouth. “I like that you got them for me.” Finally, he brushed his knuckles over the bruises darkening his jawline and cheekbone. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“They hurt,” Otabek said, casually, not like it actually mattered, just a fact.

“You like things that hurt,” Yuri grinned with shark’s teeth. Otabek shrugged concedingly. “They’re like your nipple rings. They hurt, but they’re gorgeous. They feel dangerous,” he said, dropping his hands to his chest, flicking at his rings. Otabek hissed and flinched away, trapping his hands with the one not still wrapped around his cock.

“Too sensitive right now,” he said, kissing his knuckles before releasing them again. “I don’t want to come again.”

“You don’t?” Yuri asked, his hips starting to rock gently into his grip. Otabek just shook his head, laughingly.

“That last one almost killed me,” he said with a small smile on his face. Yuri beamed proudly, kissing him hard and pushing his hips further into his fist.

“You like when I talk to you like that?” he asked, drawing his tongue over the bottom curve of his lip.

“Fuck, yes, that was incredible,” Otabek groaned, eyes closed, turning his face up to Yuri’s worshipfully. “What got into you?”

“Vodka,” Yuri shrugged. “All those people thinking I’m hot. The adrenalin of getting punched in the face. The mental orgasm I had watching you beat the shit out of two huge dudes.”

“They weren’t huge,” Otabek protested.

“They were bigger than you,” Yuri said, beginning to grow breathless, remembering the _smack crack_ and the quiet _“Are you sorry?”_ “And what you did to my ass? Oh fuck, that was unbelievable. I think I got high on oxygen deprivation.”

“You were _not_ oxygen deprived,” Otabek huffed at him, stroking him a little faster.

“How would you know? I could’ve stopped breathing, it felt _that_ good.”

“I’d know if you stopped breathing,” Otabek said, fitting his teeth around the curve of his jaw and Yuri panted. “Because that would mean you would have stopped screaming.”

He had a point, and already, Yuri was getting a little too loud for the late hour. Otabek looked tired, willing to wring one last orgasm out of him, but still tired. Yuri decided he would try to be kind to his ears. He took the hand not touching him carefully into his own, cradling it where it was bruised and swollen. He took two fingertips into his mouth and sucked on them as Otabek’s pace quickened.

“You’re close,” Otabek told him, and suddenly he was. He whined around his fingers, hips jerking in his lap. “Fuck, you look beautiful,” Otabek said in a dreamy voice, sweeping his gaze up from his flexing thighs to his swollen, sucking mouth like he couldn’t believe he existed, let along was fucking his fist in his lap. Yuri moaned around his fingers and felt his cock twitch, oozing precome, so close to the edge. “I love you,” Otabek whispered, and Yuri came. It was dry, his tired body having no more to give, but his spine still rattled in his body, his muscles still seized and shuddered. He still whimpered, mouth falling open in uncontrolled gasps as his exhausted body expended its last effort.

“Good boy,” Otabek praised him, gentling him down to the bed, his boneless and limp body held up only by his arms. “Amazing, kitten, so perfect.” Yuri whimpered, his hands clutching at Otabek when he leaned over him to turn off the light. Otabek laid down on his back, holding one arm open for his partner, who rolled under it as fast as his come-drunk body could move.

“You did so well,” Otabek said, continuing to soothe him. “Coming ten times in one day, that’s amazing, Yura.”

“Yeah,” he said, once he had his breath back, letting one hand pet up and down his stomach. “We’re going to do this for your birthday, too.”

“Deal,” Otabek chuckled, pressing a kiss into his hair. “And next year we’ll try for twelve.”

“God, no,” Yuri groaned.

“What?” Otabek teased him, laughing through a yawn. “You don’t think you could do twelve in a day?”

“I’m sure I could,” Yuri said, nipping at his chest. “But if we start a tradition like that, by the time we’re in our forties, we’d be trying to make each other come like fifty times in a day.”

For a moment all Yuri heard was the thumping of Otabek’s heart under his ear.

“You think about being with me in our forties?”

“You’re mine, Otabek Altin,” he said, pushing up onto his shaky elbow and finding his eye in the dark room. “You’re mine.”

Otabek nodded once, solemnly, as if that settled everything. And perhaps it did, and it was as easy as that to pledge your love and your life to another person. Yuri fell asleep wondering why Viktor had to make his damn wedding so complicated if all it took was a nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transphobia Warning: Yuri is misgendered by an asshole dude at a club. Upon realizing his mistake, the man reacts queerphobically. Leabing the club, the same man finds Yuri again and uses the word "tranny" and makes some relatively rapey suggests about verifying his gender. 
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	13. Good Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah HA, I bet you all forgot about me! I'm still here!

Yuri woke up to cold kisses on his neck again, a callused hand combing through his hair. He hummed sleepily and brought a lazy hand up to land against him, on his shoulder, or neck, Yuri didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care, either way. He was still mostly asleep and was relishing in the feeling of being cuddled, something he still wasn’t sure how to ask for.

Of course, then, Otabek had to ruin it.

“Wake up, kitten,” he said, tugging gently at the ends of his hair. “We should go on a run.”

“Fuck off,” Yuri groused, waking up enough to hold onto him tighter. “Can you just come here?” he asked, pulling on him, trying to get him to lay down with him.

“Which do you want me to do, fuck off, or get back in bed?” he teased.

“I want you to fuck off and _then_ get back in bed with me,” Yuri mumbled, yanking on the t-shirt his partner had definitely not fallen asleep in.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Otabek said, pulling away, teasing him, like it was a joke. “I’m not letting you go back to sleep.”

Huffing angrily, Yuri rolled onto his side, giving him his back.

“Fine, fuck you,” he spat, now awake. Embarrassment raised his hackles and he lashed out. “I hadn’t realized I had to have your dick in my hand for you to want to hold me.”

“Hey, hey,” Otabek said, sounding contrite. He clambered into bed with him and hauled him back against his chest. Yuri made an effort to squirm away, but it was halfhearted. “I’m sorry,” he said, pressing a kiss into the back of his ear, holding on to him tightly to keep him still. Yuri settled, still annoyed but at least he’d gotten what he wanted. When his partner seemed confident that he wouldn’t wiggle away, he relaxed his hold and started stroking along the curve of his waist.

“I forgot how cranky you are in the morning,” Otabek murmured into his hair. “Normally, when you wake up next to me, you’re in a good mood.”

“Maybe you didn’t fuck me well enough last night.” Yuri curled his arms into his chest and pretended he couldn’t feel Otabek chuckling silently against his back.

“If I’d fucked you any better, you would’ve died.”

Yuri didn’t admit that that was probably true.

Otabek petted him like a tetchy cat for a while longer, making sure he stayed awake by pressing kisses to his ears and neck. After a few quiet moments, Yuri relaxed fully against him, snuggling back against him, letting out a hard exhale.

“Feel better?” Otabek asked after a while.

“Whatever,” Yuri said, though he was hiding a smile and yes, in fact, he did.

“Do you want me to get you off? I like getting my hand around you,” Otabek said, breath pluming over his ear, his hand snaking forward around his hip to splay low over his belly. Yuri squirmed away from his hand, only to find his half hard cock pressed to his ass.

“Am I supposed to always want to have sex with you?” he grumbled, rolling away petulantly to lie flat on his stomach,

“Yes,” Otabek said flatly. “You must have sex with me like a slave whenever I desire or I will kick you out of my home.”

Yuri peeked at him from under his hair and he had a softness around his mouth and eyes that Yuri knew was a smile.

“You don’t have to be so sassy about it,” he grumbled, but wiggled closer to allow Otabek to pet him again. He did, predictably, and Yuri arched into it like an overgrown cat.

“No,” he answered, seriously. “You don’t always have to want to have sex. Sometimes you can be tired, or hungry, or stressed, or anything else.” Otabek bent his head to press a kiss to his eyelid. “We _just_ started having sex. It’s not the reason we’re together.” Yuri hummed against him, snuggling closer to his side and nuzzling his nose into his chest, telling him he agreed.

Otabek brushed the backs of his scabbed knuckles over the cheek turned up to him. Yuri winced as he felt how swollen it was. He poked out his bottom lip and looked at Beka from under his lashes.

“Does it look bad?” he asked, giving him puppy-dog eyes.

“It’s a little purple,” Otabek said, carefully stroking the bruise.

“Am I still pretty?” Otabek laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Of course you are, kitten.”

He let Yuri lay there for a couple long minutes, petting over his back and letting him relax. By the time they got out of bed, all of the morning crankiness had drained from the Russian, leaving him only slightly embarrassed, but mostly happy to have a partner who understood him.

They went on a run, Otabek teasing him about how Yuri might be on vacation, but he sure wasn’t. They raced through the streets of Almaty, stopping far too many times for Yuri to pose in front of street art that he found interesting. Otabek pretended to be annoyed, but he always took good pictures and picked good poses, some of which kept his bruised cheek hidden, the other highlighting the colors as if they were meant to be there. After a few murals, he started leading them on a path through the city that would take him to all of his favorites. Yuri’s snapchat story was an ever-increasing gallery of graffiti. They asked one passerby to take a picture of the two of them, sweaty and pink-cheeked, in front of one of Ksenia’s pieces.

By the time they returned home, Yuri’s knees were just starting that pleasant shake from hard work and his nose was getting slightly raw from the cold morning air. Yuri showered, alone, while Otabek made breakfast. He met him in the kitchen, toweling his hair before draping himself over his back, taking advantage of their height difference to lean over his shoulders. He tucked his face into his neck and laughed against his skin when Otabek complained about his wet hair sticking to him. He ate while Otabek showered, and then fixed him a bowl when he came out.

“So what do you want to do today?” Otabek asked around a mouth of baursak. “We could go site seeing, we could go to the museums,” he started listing. When Yuri didn’t seem intrigued by his options, he quirked a brow at him. “We could go skating,” he said plyingly. Yuri just laughed and sipped his tea, shaking his head.

“I want to stay in,” he deciding, making his way to Otabek’s fluffy couch and making himself at home.

“Babe,” Otabek said, following him with his plate, and Yuri tried not to grin into his mug at the easy way such a common pet name fell from his lips. “If we meet my parents for dinner this week, and my mother asks you what you’ve seen in Almaty and all you can say is my bedroom ceiling, they’re not going to be impressed with me.”

Yuri leaned his head back against the couch and laughed, louder and more sincerely than he ever did in Russia. If he were a lame, romantic idiot like Viktor, this would probably be a moment in which he’d turn his head and gaze as the way the soft, golden light caught in Otabek’s eyelashes and tell him some foolish drivel like “I love you,” or something.

As it were, though, he just flicked a crumb off his lip and told him he ate like a dog.

“Really, though, I want to take you out around Almaty,” Otabek insisted, putting his dish on the coffee table. “It’s a good city, you’re going to like it.”

“I know I will,” Yuri said, rolling his eyes. He pulled his legs up underneath him and turned towards his partner, propping his elbow on the back of the couch and looking at him softly. “But it’s been so long since I last got to see you, and all we did yesterday was have sex and get drunk.” He smiled, because he definitely loved both of those things. “So today, I kind of just want to sit around with you and be lazy. All I want is right here.” He ended up staring down at his fingers, pulling threads out of one of the pillows, a little embarrassed by the request. Otabek wrapped his hand around his and when Yuri looked up, he had that soft smile on his face again.

“That sounds good,” he said, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Or three.” Yuri grinned.

It was in the middle of one of the boring expositional scenes of a Bond movie when Yuri opened his snapchat. He’d poked and prodded at his bruise this morning in the shower, looking at it from all angles. The purple clotted under cheekbone made his eyes look even greener, and the yellow at its edges brought out the gold in his hair. If it didn’t hurt so much to smile and chew, Yuri would probably have liked it a little.

He flipped through the different filters, putting different ears on himself before settling on the cat ears. He put his hand under his chin, his wrist blocking the worst of the hickies on his throat, and he posed with a pouted lip and half lidded eyes.

“Beka, pose like you just dropped a mix tape.” Over his shoulder, he captured Otabek leaning over, elbows on his spread knees, with his bruised and scabbed hands folded in front of his mouth, looking dead into the camera with a cold look in his eyes. “Perfect.” Yuri captioned it, “When you start a fight but your boyfriend finishes it.”

“That makes it sound like I beat you, Yuri,” Otabek complained, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“No, it doesn’t,” he scoffed. He saved it to his story and then dropped his phone and climbed into his partner’s lap. “It looks like I have a scary, hot, tough boyfriend who takes care of me.” He settled his hands on his shoulders, worming his toes under his thighs to keep them warm.

“I let you get hit,” Otabek said, a frown on his face as he touched the purple splotch on his skin.

“You kept me safe,” Yuri said, kissing his palm and then leaning down to kiss him. The smile pulling his lips wide kept the kiss light, and Otabek sighed up into it, letting his eyes close peacefully. Yuri grinned down at him, letting their foreheads rest together.

The ring of Yuri’s phone jolted them out of their calm. He looked over to see it vibrating on the couch cushion, the ugliest picture he had of Viktor lighting up the screen.

“Ugh, nope,” he said, reaching over to silence it.

“You should talk to him,” Otabek said, catching his wrist before he could drop the call. “How long has it been?”

“Only like two days,” he answered incredulously.

“And in those two days you travelled internationally, turned eighteen and lost your virginity. Talk to your father.”

“He’s not my dad,” Yuri grumbled, but he was already reaching for the phone. “What?” he barked as soon as he answered.

“What _the fuck_ happened?!” was Viktor’s immediate response. It was so far from the light and histrionic greeting that Yuri was expecting, so serious and filled with tension that he was immediately put on edge.

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?” Yuri asked, his brain conjuring all of the worst possible scenarios that would have Viktor sounding so worried. Was it Kastudon? Makkachin? Why would Viktor be calling him?

“Your face, Yura, your face!” Viktor shouted, sounding angry and scared and so unlike Yuri had heard him in years. “Who the fuck hit you?”

“Oh, that,” Yuri said, sagging with relief. He’d gone rigid on Otabek’s lap, and as he relaxed, he slid sideways to lean against him. He also had to fight a smile had hearing Viktor call him by his _real_ nickname, not that obnoxious one he made up for him. “That’s nothing.”

“You have a _bruise. On your face,_ ” Viktor shrieked at him.

“Yeah, I got punched,” Yuri said, shrugging nonchalantly as Otabek shifted underneath him to pause the movie.

“ _He got punched in the face,_ ” Viktor screamed in English, seemingly to someone near him. It was still loud enough that Yuri had to hold the phone away from himself. “You, young man,” Viktor said, speaking in rapid fire Russian again, “need to come home right now.”

“What? No,” Yuri fired back. “I’m not coming home, I’ve got eight more days here.”

“That was before you got attacked,” Viktor said, before Yuri heard a muffled thump and a string of curses. He could all too easily imagine the older man pacing furiously in the onsen, only to trip over the low tables and Makkachin as he tried to comfort him.

“I wasn’t attacked,” Yuri said, looking skyward. Otabek’s hand on his back rubbed in soothing circles. “Some guys tried to start a fight with me so Otabek beat them up.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Okay, so maybe I might’ve baited them a little bit, but it wasn’t my fault. They were being super creepy and, like, aggressively straight.”

“Oh my god,” Viktor said, sounding far away, as if he’d pressed the phone against his forehead in exasperation. “Otabek said Kazkhstan wasn’t safe, and we let him go anyway, what the fuck is wrong with us?” He said, in English, and Yuri wasn’t, particularly surprised when Katsudon took the phone and left Viktor to scream himself out.

“Hello, Yurio, how are you?” he asked, sounding calm and reasonable.

“I’d be better if Viktor wasn’t freaking out over nothing,” Yuri groused, grabbing a blanket with his toes and pulling it up over his legs, making himself at home against Otabek’s chest.

“That’s a big bruise on your cheek,” Katsu said, concerned. “At least, it looked like it on your story.”

“It’s not so bad,” Yuri said, picking up one of Otabek’s hands and playing with his fingers.

“Do you want to tell us what happened?”

“So, Otabek took me to this awesome night club that he works at for my birthday,” Yuri began, launching enthusiastically into the story. “And this huge dude, like, _huge,_ came on to me super hard because he thought I was a chick, and then he got really mad when I was like “fuck you I’m a dude,” and the bartender had to literally spray him with water to get him to calm down, it was so crazy.” Otabek clenched his hand around his fingers and frowned at him harshly. Yuri waved it off. “And then when we left, the same guy started following us with one of his friends, and they were yelling all of this really creepy shit, and then I turned around and told them that they could suck my dick—”

“Oh, for the love of God, where did we go wrong?” Viktor complained in the background. Yuri continued, undeterred.

“And then this guy just punches me in the face, which, like, fuck, it’s been a long time since I’ve been hit in the face, I forgot how much it hurt. But then Otabek beat them both up. Like, one guy spit out a tooth. It was so badass.” He smiled at Otabek but he was still frowning slightly at him, and there was silence on the other side of the call.

Finally, Katsu asked, “And is Otabek okay?”

“Yeah, he broke a couple bones in his hand,” Yuri said, running his snow-pale fingertips over the bruises. “But other than that he’s okay.”

“Great, would you put him on the phone, please?”

“Why do you want to talk to my boyfriend?” Yuri grumbled, immediately suspicious. He shot his eyes to Otabek and Otabek just held out a hand, expression almost completely blank. Yuri detected a hint of apprehension clinging to the edges of his lips.

“Please, Yurio, just put him on.” Yuri grumbled but acquiesced, handing his phone off to Otabek who accepted it with a quiet “Hello.”

Whatever Katsudon said to him was too low for Yuri to eavesdrop, and he tried pretty hard. When he realized that Katsu was probably whispering he leaned back to watch Otabek’s face instead, for clues. Otabek didn’t say a word, but in the course of their short conversation, Yuri watched as the blood steadily drained from his face and his eyebrows inched anxiously up his forehead.

“I understand,” Otabek said, a nearly imperceptible wobble in his voice. “Yes, sir.” Yuri’s eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead at hearing his boyfriend refer to anyone as “sir.” Otabek handed the phone back without another word.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Yuri snapped immediately, still searching Otabek’s pale face for hints.

“I simply told him what would happen to him if you ever got hurt again,” Katsu said easily. Yuri gaped at his partner.

“Piggy, I don’t think you understand, I watched him beat up two giant drunk guys last night. What do you think you could do to him?”

“He knows exactly what I am willing to do to him,” Kastudon said. “And, hopefully, you will never need to find out what that is.”

“What the fuck?” Yuri whispered to Otabek. Otabek just shook his head slowly, staring off into the distance like he was still processing.

“Anyway, Yurio, I hope you’re having a nice trip!” Katsudon said brightly. “I’m going to deal with Viktor but you should really call us more often. I know he’s going to want to hear all about it. You know how much he misses you when you’re gone.”

“He doesn’t miss me,” Yuri grumbled, hand going tight around the phone.

“Sure he does,” Katsudon said brightly.

“Trust me, he doesn’t.”

“Viktor, don’t you miss Yurio?” he called, his hand probably muffling the mouthpiece.

“Why? Does he want to come home? I’ll pick him up at the airport! Any airport! I’ll meet him in Russia if he wants!” Yuri heard Viktor say, followed by more crashing sounds and a yelp from Makka.

“See? He misses you,” Katsudon said, sounding smug. And fat.

“Whatever,” Yuri huffed, but it didn’t have nearly the same amount of heat as it usually would, and when he snuggled up under Otabek’s chin, maybe the sunny feeling in his chest wasn’t just because of the way his partner wrapped him up in his arms. “I’ll call you in a couple days. Will that get you off my back?”

“Every other day, and I’ll keep Viktor from commenting on whatever you post on Instagram,” Katsudon bargained.

“Deal,” Yuri said, picking up one of the drawstrings on Otabek’s hoodie and popping it into his mouth. “Okay, bye, or whatever.”

“Goodbye, Yurio, we love you,” Katsu said, and the last thing Yuri heard was the sound of Viktor shaking his keys, yelling that he was on his way to the airport and Katsu laughing at him.

Otabek yanked the string out from between his teeth and Yuri barked an affronted “Hey!” before he was dumped back on his half of the couch.

“What was that for?” he asked, pouting his lip out as he tried to crawl back into his lap. Otabek just stared him down, arms crossed over his chest. “Did Katsudon tell you that you weren’t allowed to touch me anymore? What the hell?”

“You,” Otabek said accusingly, pointing a finger at him. “Did not tell me Hilde saw this guy attack you.”

“Hilde?” Yuri asked, trying to get back under the blanket and lean against Otabek’s side. His boyfriend dodged him again, balling up the blanket and stuffing it between them. “The bartender?”

“Yes, the bartender. She would have told me if you had trouble.” Otabek looked at him with a discerning gaze, like he was looking right through him. “Which means she probably told _you_ to tell me.” Yuri tried to look innocent but Otabek’s glare told him everything he needed to know.

“She might have mentioned something,” Yuri said, looking down at his hands, pulling at the edge of the blanket near him.

“And you didn’t think you should tell me?”

“Of course I thought about it,” Yuri said, looking away. “I just decided not to.” Otabek was not impressed. Yuri sighed. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. You put together such an awesome birthday party, I didn’t want to ruin it.” He looked up at Otabek through his lashes. “And I knew if I stayed right next to you, I’d always be safe.”

"Katsuki doesn't think so. He thinks I can't keep you safe."

"He's wrong," Yuri said insistently, trying again to cuddle up against his rigid side. "You took care of me. You took such good care of me."

Otabek studied him carefully before softening his glare. He chucked the blanket at him, smirking when Yuri squawked as it wrapped around his head. By the time he wrestled himself free, Otabek was waiting on the other side to press a tender kiss to his lips. Yuri tried to pull his hair out of the way, more than a few strands caught between their mouths, but Otabek leaned back before he could extract them.

“Fine, I forgive you,” Otabek said, his tone as close to lofty as it ever got. “Now shut up and let me watch my favorite movie.”

Yuri cuddled up next to him again, wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulling him in. He kissed the top of his head as Otabek draped the blanket back over their legs.

“Don’t lie to me,” Yuri whispered. “I know your favorite movie is Frozen.”

“Shut up,” Otabek grumbled.

 

 

It was halfway through the second movie and they were spooning on the couch. Yuri had sworn that he wasn’t a little spoon. He was too tall, and his hair would get in Otabek’s mouth, and he didn’t really like feeling anyone breathe on the back of his neck.

But.

But there was something about the way that Otabek would let his thumb rest in the groove of his collarbone, the line of his forearm centered on his chest, holding him tightly back against him. There was something about the way Otabek would sometimes press his nose into the groove at the base of his skull, even though Yuri knew for sure that he couldn’t see the screen like that. And there was something about the way Otabek would occasionally rub his big toe down the arch of his foot, absently, like he wasn’t touching Yuri enough.

So Yuri let himself be spooned. He let himself be wrapped up tightly, and he let the back of his head be kissed. He even let his hair be accidently sucked into Otabek’s mouth when he laughed. He let Otabek occasionally stretch his hand up over his throat so he could brush over his lip with his thumb, as if reminding himself how soft it was.

During one such moment, with Otabek’s focus firmly on the TV, Yuri opened his snapchat to send a snap to Phichit. He opened the camera and saw the two of them, the tip of Otabek’s thumb pulling his lip down, the bruises on the back of his hand dark against the paleness of his throat, the pressure of his elbow dragging down the collar of his shirt. He let his lips part a little more and took a picture. He saved it, studied it, feeling his cheeks get a little pinker as he stared at the erotic picture of such a simple touch.

Otabek’s hand returned to its place on his chest, thumb tucked into his collarbone. He took a picture, marveling at how his hand was big enough to span from the center of his chest nearly to the middle of his shoulder. Bruised and dark, it looked dangerous against the grey of his shirt.

“Beka,” he said, quietly, eyes on his phone.

“Hmm?” Otabek asked, apparently engrossed in the movie.

“Can you grab my throat?”

Otabek’s hand twitched against him, and he sucked in a hard inhale that Yuri felt expand against his back. Otabek hesitated, but didn’t ask any questions. He whispered a broken sounding curse and slowly raised his hand to rest gently over his throat, the bobbing of Yuri’s adam’s apple shifting over his palm. Yuri took a picture, tilting his chin up.

“Now harder.” Otabek pressed his forehead into the back of his hand but did as he was told, flexing his hand around his throat. Yuri gasped, not because his breathing was at all impaired, but because the threat was enough. He took pictures. A lot of pictures. He liked the way the tendons stood out on the back of his hand, a contrast to the perfect smoothness of his cheeks. He liked the way his forearm was flexed against the flat expanse of his chest. He titled his chin all the way up, then to the left and the right, getting a few with the bruise and some without. He dropped his head to one side and let his mouth fall open, he let his tongue poke out over his teeth.

“A little harder?” he asked, and he dropped his phone when Otabek groaned and squeezed around him. “Fuck,” he whined, wrapping one hand around Otabek’s wrist, arching his head back to rest on his partner’s shoulder, pushing his throat into the cradle of his palm. He realized that some blood was probably being blocked from his brain, and that’s why he felt like he was drowning. His legs squirmed as it got harder to breathe.

Only seconds later, Otabek was releasing him, stroking the backs of his bruised knuckles over his neck tenderly, pressing kisses to the side of his face and his forehead. Yuri panted, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

“Good?” he asked, thumbing over his cheek.

“Yeah,” Yuri said in a voice that was scratchy and thick. “Wow.”

“Do you want to…” Otabek trailed off, sweeping his hand down his stomach. Yuri thought about it. His dick was half hard in a sleepy kind of way, and his head felt light and lazy like it usually did when he couldn’t stop gasping long enough to really _breathe._

“No, not right now” he said, deciding that he’d rather just be held for a little longer. “But, um, I think maybe we should keep _that_ in mind. For, uh, later. And stuff.”

“Okay,” Otabek said, clearly laughing at his awkwardness. Yuri let him, smiling a little when he drew his hand to his lips to press a kiss into his palm. “Did you get some good pictures?”

“Amazing pictures,” Yuri said, fighting the instinct to reach for his phone, deciding it wasn’t worth it to pull away from Otabek’s embrace just yet.

“You’re not putting those on Instagram.”

“But I’m going to set one for my background.”

“Fine,” Otabek groused, nipping at his ear and getting a mouthful of hair for his trouble.

“Yura?” Otabek said, after a few minutes of them quietly watching the movie.

“Hmm?” he asked, eyes having just begun to drift closed for a little rest.

“I really like that, too.”

“What? Choking me?” he asked, blushing.

“Yeah, that, too,” Otabek said, his voice lower than it needed to be. “But I would really, _really_ like it,” he stressed, “if you were to do that to me, too.”

Yuri moaned a little, covering his eyes with one of his hands, imagining wrapping it around Otabek’s thick neck, the other pushing fingers into his mouth.

“You like it both ways?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“You know I do,” he promised, squeezing him tightly back against his chest. “I like almost everything both ways.”

“Okay.” Yuri nodded, feeling lightheaded from all the possibilities that short sentence laid before them.

 

 

They were making out on the couch as the credits rolled and Netflix asked them to rate the movie. They kissed slowly and without end, like they hadn’t done since very early in their relationship. But it wasn’t tentative and awkward, they were slowly learning the shape of each other. No, now they knew the slip of the other’s tongue by heart and simply relished in being together. Yuri was scratching his nails down Otabek’s back, long, lazy pulls that he knew the other boy adored, when Otabek’s phone rang.

“Leave it,” he said when Yuri pulled away.

“Is that my short program music?”

“Shh, don’t think about that,” Otabek said, pulling him back into the kiss. Yuri giggled against him before sinking into it, returning all focus to the kiss. Yuri had just started sucking on Otabek’s bottom lip when there was a knock on the door, quickly followed by the twisting of the knob.

“Please be naked,” Marcus called as he swung open the door without waiting for an invitation.

Otabek let his head drop back against the couch and his arms flop down from around Yuri’s waist. He groaned.

“I told you all that you can’t just come over unannounced while Yuri is here,” he scolded his friend, glaring at him. Marcus just grinned, white-teethed and shitless.

“I had to bring Yuri his birthday present. And I hoped you’d be fucking him and I’d catch a glimpse before he ripped my eyes out.”

If Yuri hadn’t been blushing before, he certainly was now. Red to his roots, he glared at Marcus for all he was worth, his pride making him jut his chin out and act like he wasn’t embarrassed. He wanted to say something cool and mature, but he couldn’t think of anything. So he settled for looking mean and tough.

“Oh he doesn’t like that,” Marcus commented, laughing at him, coming further into the apartment to make himself comfortable on one of the kitchen stools. “What gives, Otabek? I thought you were into exhibitionists.”

“I’m working on him, don’t worry,” Otabek said, only half teasing. Yuri shot him a withering glare but he just smirked that cocky smirk and Yuri couldn’t help smirking back. Otabek kissed him gently, but Yuri opened his mouth to it immediately. His boyfriend responded in kind, taking the invitation to slide his tongue right back into his mouth, flickering over his like they had never been interrupted. Boldly, Otabek grabbed his ass from over the blanket. Imagining Marcus there watching, Yuri smirked against his partner’s lips and arched his back into his hand, hard, and moaned.

“Okay, enough of that,” Marcus said, chucking a pillow at them.

“I thought you wanted to watch?” Yuri asked, not taking his eyes of the spitty sheen on his partner’s lip.

“Yeah, well, now you’re just teasing me,” Marcus complained with such a wide smile on his face, Yuri couldn’t tell if _he_ was teasing or not.

“What did you want, Marc?” Otabek asked, sitting up enough to see his friend, dislodging Yuri’s tangled legs and making him grumble at him.

“I said, I have a present for Yuri,” Marcus said, pushing a black gift bag across the coffee table between them. Yuri scrambled up to seated, always interested in presents. “Open it,” Marcus urged him, seeing his excitement. “I think it’ll probably come in handy.”

“I swear, if you bought my boyfriend a dildo, I’m going to kick your ass,” Otabek grumbled, grabbing the bag and handing it to Yuri with a kiss on the cheek.

Marcus cackled, and Yuri didn’t know if that meant dildo or no dildo. He took the package carefully and pulled out the plume of rainbow tissue paper form the top. Inside was a tube, and when he pulled it out his jaw dropped.

“ _Um,_ ” he said significantly, looking from Marcus’ cackling face to Otabek’s pinkening cheeks with bug-eyes. “What is this?’ he asked turning the tube so Otabek could read the label that proudly said “Good Head.”

“It’s numbing gel,” Marcus said, giggling to himself. “To help you work on your deep-throating skills.”

“Thanks,” Yuri bit out, dryly and sarcastically. He didn’t know if he should be laughing hysterically or spitting mad. He looked at the tube again and saw that it was strawberry flavored. He did like strawberries. He decided to just embrace it. “Actually, Marcus, I don’t know if I should use this,” he said, tapping his chin contemplatively. “Beka seems to really get off on hearing me choke.”

“Yeah, I bet he fucking does,” Marcus said lowly, watching Yuri with dark eyes. Yuri smirked at him, tossing his hair over his shoulder and blowing him a kiss. Marcus shook his head, as if clearing out unclean thoughts. When he turned back to Yuri, he was all bright smiles again. “Anyway, I had to bring you something, because Alia told me she stashed something extra in that backpack for you, so I couldn’t be the only one who didn’t get you a present.”

“It’s fine, Marcus, thanks,” Yuri said, actually feeling genuine. Yeah, it was for blowjobs, but it was still a present. And given his previous attempt and Otabek’s sheer size, he was pretty sure it would come in handy.

“Well, thanks for stopping by, Marcus,” Otabek said, not looking away from Yuri as he wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Ah, yes, I can see I'm not wanted,” he replied dramatically. Otabek hummed an agreement, before cupping Yuri’s cheek, sliding his fingers into his hair, and pulling him into an indecent kiss. Yuri returned it eagerly, twisting to face his partner fully. He slid into his lap while he slid his tongue into his mouth. He took pleasure in shoving Otabek’s shoulder back against the couch, his head falling back against the cushion, mouth open to Yuri’s kiss. Otabek slung an arm low around his hips, pulling him close against him, splaying one of his palms over the back of his thigh. Yuri ground into it, scraping his chest against Otabek’s nipples. He expected to hear Marcus get up and see himself out. But he didn’t.

Yuri pulled his head away, the hand at the back of Otabek’s neck directing his mouth to his neck. He turned his head over his shoulder, letting his partner suck a new hickey into his skin. He quirked a brow at Marcus, still sitting on the chair and staring.

“You know where the door is,” he said, his voice smoky and dark. Marcus stared at his lips, rising to a stand and taking a step towards them. Yuri knew that he’d been consenting to a certain amount of kink when he started making out with his boyfriend in front of an interested audience. But he was not ready to be touched by someone who was not Otabek. He looked Marcus up and down and cocked a brow at him. “You know where the door is,” he said again, firmer. Marcus stopped in his tracks and blinked like he hadn’t noticed he’d been moving.

“Right, sorry,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “You’re too hot for your own good,” he said, laughingly, over his shoulder as he left. The door swung closed with a thud and Otabek pulled away from his skin.

“He thinks you’re sexy.”

“I know he does,” Yuri smirked.

“You like it,” Otabek said, looking back at him intensely. “He’s going to get himself off today thinking of you. And you like that.”

“Yeah,” Yuri breathed into his mouth, one hand fisted in his hair, the other still holding the tube of Good Head. “Yeah, I like that,” he admitted before nipping at his partner’s lip. “So do you.”

“Yeah, so do I,” Otabek agreed readily, squeezing his hand where he held his thigh, pulling him harder into his lap.

“What do you want to do?” Yuri asked, gasping down into his mouth.

“What do _you_ want to do?” Otabek returned the question. “Do you wanna have sex? Or do you want to cook dinner and watch another movie?” Yuri squirmed in his lap, trying to make a choice. He hadn’t really felt like having sex all day, and now he was hard in his joggers and would happily fuck his partner’s fist right her eon the couch. It probably wouldn’t even take that long, it never seemed to when Otabek got a hand around him.

Yuri looked at the bottle of Good Head in his hand and got an idea.

“Let’s do dinner and another movie first,” he said, climbing out of his partner’s lap and pulling him to his feet, right up against his chest. Speaking down into his mouth, Yuri said, “And then I want to try something new.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Extra Magic, here is Yuuri's conversation with Otabek~  
> “Do you know what I'm majored in in college, Altin? Physical therapy, with a minor in sports management. Do you know what that means? That means that I know exactly how to rehabilitate an athlete into competition form. It also means that I know exactly what bones in your legs I would have to break to make sure you never walked again. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? You wouldn’t just never skate again, I would make sure you never walked again. If Yurio ever gets hurt again, that’s what will happen to you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”  
> “I understand”  
> “Good. Now put our son back on the phone, look at the bruise on his face, and think about what will happen to you if he ever gets another one.”  
> “Yes, sir.”
> 
>  
> 
> As always feel free to leave a comment, I'm so sorry it's been so long! Let me know what your favorite part was!
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	14. Another night in Almaty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than four times in an hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not super completely happy with this, but it's been two weeks, I figured I'd made you all wait long enough.

Dinner was a tense affair. Not because it was awkward, or because they were angry, but because it was very clear that Otabek was trying incredibly hard to restrain himself from touching Yuri too much.

They moved around the small kitchen together, and whenever Otabek needed to get by him, he would plant his hand on his lower back and slide behind him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder each time. He wrapped him up in his arms and kissed him against the counter once the food was in the oven, barely even taking the time to set a timer. Yuri allowed it, sighing into his kiss even though his hands were wet from the vegetables.

Yuri insisted on having wine with dinner, to help himself relax. He offered to go get it, leaving the Kazakh to mind the food so he could go down to the store and use his ID as a legal eighteen year old for the first time. He got the biggest, cheapest bottle of white wine he could find, picking a label he could read and making sure it said “sweet” on it somewhere. He got back, and Otabek kissed him against the door as if he thought he’d never return.

They curled up on the couch with their dinner, watching old episodes of their favorite shows as they ate. Yuri noticed Otabek seemed torn between eating with one hand while the other petted over his thigh, and keeping his hands to himself so as to eat as fast as possible. When Otabek finished, he set his dish on the table and pulled Yuri against him, pressing his face into his shoulder and sliding his hands under his shirt.

“Hey, I’m not done,” Yuri groused, throwing a sharp elbow that sloshed his wine dangerously.

“I know, take your time,” he said, petting him gently. “I just couldn’t stand to not be touching you.”

“Loser,” Yuri mumbled around his fork even as he slumped further into his hold.

Having his hands on his skin seemed to settle Otabek enough that he wasn’t so impatient that he couldn’t finish the episode. But after Yuri finished his food, and the end music finally began, he pressed an unsubtle kiss up under his jawbone.

“You done with dinner?” Yuri asked, stretching his neck so Otabek had room to nibble, draining his wine glass.

“I’m ready for dessert,” he said against his skin, and he got to taste Yuri’s laugh.

“That’s so fucking lame, I knew you were going to say that,” he said, cackling as he set his glass down.

“You set me up for it, I had to,” Otabek said, pulling away with a boyish and completely charming smile on his face. Yuri couldn’t help but be struck by how handsome he was. He cupped his face in his hand and kissed him, slowly and deeply, trying to telegraph the sort of softness and love that Otabek never seemed to have a problem giving him. The Kazakh hummed into it, squeezing his hands around his waist.

Yuri pulled away, but he didn’t get far, not with how mesmerizing Otabek’s slightly swollen mouth was. Emulating something Otabek had done to him dozens of times now, he swept his thumb over his damp bottom lip and pressed it into his mouth. He latched onto it immediately, moaning as he closed his eyes and sucked. Yuri lost his breath, marveling at how natural Otabek looked, lips wrapped around his finger, sucking and licking like it was all he needed.

Yuri stood. Otabek opened his eyes but didn’t stop suckling on his thumb. Feeling breathless and a little wild, Yuri folded the rest of his fingers under his chin. Pinching his lower jaw, Yuri pulled him forwards and Otabek poured down off the couch and onto his knees like it was perfectly natural to him.

“Fuck,” Yuri breathed, stepping in close, tilting his head up so his chin rested on his stomach. His dick was throbbing in his loose pants, and when Otabek swallowed, Yuri felt his throat move against his cock. Otabek gazed up at him, heated but calm, content to let Yuri lead him wherever. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, and Otabek nipped at the meaty pad of his thumb. He extracted his thumb and tugged Otabek up to standing. He kissed him, firmly, holding his head in his palms.

“Is that what you want to try tonight?” he murmured against his lips. “I take direction very well.” Yuri’s knees went weak and he groaned, a slideshow of filthy things flickering through his mind’s eye.

“Not exactly, but I'm definitely going to remember that. For now, I’m going to go, um, get ready,” he said, gesturing towards the bedroom. He pulled himself out of Otabek’s hands, which extended to their full reach to keep him in his grasp for as long as possible. Still, he slipped away and closed himself in the bathroom, leaning against the door and breathing out a strong breath.

It was amazing, he thought, that just yesterday morning he’d stood in this exact same place and had to give himself a pep talk in the mirror to have sex with his boyfriend. And now, here he stood again, with hickies covering his throat, his hair tousled and tangled and his cock pressing hard against his pants. He blew a strand of hair out of his face and gave himself a small grin.

He’d stashed the numbing gel in here before dinner, and he sat down on the edge of the tub to read the label and go over his plan. He’d been thinking about what he wanted to do all evening, since before Marcus had come to deliver this gift.

The words “I like almost everything both ways” had been veritably haunting him since Otabek had whispered them into his ear. Nearly every sexual encounter they’d had so far went exactly the same; Otabek got his hands on him, and he fell apart. Even when he started off in control, he ended up sobbing for air and writhing incoherently. For once, he wanted to be the one to do that to Otabek. _For_ Otabek. He said he liked it both ways, which means there was a part of him just waiting for Yuri to take charge, to take him apart.

Yuri thought that it was fair to assume that everything Otabek had done to make him feel good, he probably wanted Yuri to do to him in turn. He liked putting fingers in Yuri’s mouth? He definitely liked when Yuri did that to him. He liked sucking hickies into his skin? He might’ve complained that Yuri had taken too long, but he’d fucking loved how the hickies on his thighs ached. So if he liked holding Yuri down and fucking him into a quivering, whimpering, _useless_ mess, then it was Yuri’s time to return the favor.

Before this trip, he probably would’ve blushed at the idea, shyly suggesting that maybe Otabek should take the lead. But now? Now he knew what it was like to have a cock in his mouth and fingers in his ass. He knew the hot clench of Otabek around him. He knew that he could go out and men and women would dream about him. He knew that even Otabek’s friends were into him, that they thought he was hot and sexy. Yes, Otabek had told him that dozens of times, but hearing it from someone who wasn’t already in love with him almost made it more real. He had confidence now, and he was going to use it.

Before Marcus showed up, Yuri didn’t think he could do it. Every time Otabek so much as looked at Yuri’s dick, he fucking lost it. But if he could make himself last longer, then he’d be able to fuck his partner the way he deserved to be fucked.

Satisfied that the gel would work, he stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor. He stroked his dick, still mostly hard, and thought of Otabek on his knees, gazing up at him like he was his entire world. Within seconds, his dick was back to fully hard, and Yuri drizzled the gel over it. With one finger, he tried to rub it in, biting his lip as his dick bobbed away from his tentative touch. Cursing quietly in frustration, Yuri painstakingly worked to cover his cock in the gel, shivering as it tingled. The finger he was using to smear it around was numb before his cock was, but it was only a matter of minutes before he was poking his cock and watching in slightly distressed amazement as he barely felt the touch.

He washed his hands and wiped his dick off with a towel, eyebrows raised as he didn’t register the roughness of the cloth. He poked it a couple more times for good measure. He wrapped his hand around it and gave himself a couple of long strokes. He could feel pressure, but the overwhelming sensations weren’t there. He already missed it, but it was for a good cause. He dropped the towel to the ground and used his foot to wipe up the dripped gel that had fallen without his notice.

As he opened the bathroom door, he kept stroking himself, not really sure what would happen if he went soft. Otabek was on the other side of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head. He got tangled halfway through, having caught a glimpse of Yuri in the doorway and flailing gracelessly. Yuri laughed at him meanly, but he didn’t seem to care, rapidly throwing off the rest of his clothes and clambering up to meet Yuri in the middle of the bed.

He wrapped one arm around his waist and with the other he batted Yuri’s hand away from his cock and took it himself, stroking long and slow. Yuri hummed into his mouth, feeling the pressure of his grip, even if it was muted. He kissed him, letting it be dirty and sloppy, fisting one hand tightly in his hair. Otabek shuddered against him, and already Yuri felt like he was succeeding.

“What is it that you want to try?” Otabek asked, already a little breathless, sounding like he’d been wondering all day and it was starting to drive him insane.

“I want to fuck you,” Yuri said, sitting back on his heels and pulling Otabek to kneel over his thighs.

“You’ve already fucked me,” Otabek said, running his fingers back through his wild hair. Yuri quirked a brow at him.

“ _You_ fucked _me_ ,” he said, matter-of-factly. “It might have been my dick, but you fucked me until I couldn’t move.” Otabek shrugged, a sly smile on his face, unable to deny it. “This time, I want to fuck you.”

“Really?” Otabek said, twisting his palm over the head of Yuri’s dick.

“Yeah, really,” Yuri said, before planting his hands on his partner’s shoulders and shoving him backwards onto the bed. Otabek fell with a surprised “ooph” and Yuri smirked in satisfaction as his eyes flushed darker. “Do you know what you do to me?” he asked lowly, as he bent over his partner. He ran one hand teasingly from his hip to his calf, before hiking his knee up around his waist. “Every time you touch me, my fucking brain turns off.” He dropped his mouth to his nipple, letting the ring clink against his teeth before swirling over it with his tongue. “You make me fucking useless in this bed,” he accused him, biting over his nipple and sucking harshly, relishing in the gasp that that pulled from his partner. “And it doesn’t seem fair if I can’t do the same thing to you,” he explained, grabbing the lube from under the pillow that they’d stashed it under late last night. Or early this morning, as the case might’ve been. “So I’m not leaving Kazakhstan until I can take you apart,” he threatened, or promised, he didn’t know. And he didn’t care, not when Otabek was eagerly pulling up his other leg, his hole on display and ready for Yuri’s fingers.

The first one sank in so easily. Yuri was still paranoid of hurting his partner, but after how easily he took his dick yesterday, Yuri moved with a little more confidence as he slid his finger in and out, spreading the lube and giving him the whole length of the digit. Otabek’s cheeks were already pink, and Yuri just had to kiss them.

“You already take me apart,” he panted, flexing his hole around the finger pressing him open. “I love seeing you like that.”

“I know,” Yuri murmured, pressing teasingly with the tip of a second finger, not pressing in, just playing with his rim. “And I can’t wait to see _you_ like that.”

“You don’t have to prove anything,” Otabek said, sounding far too serious and lucid for someone who had a finger in their ass. “You’re already so good for me. I came on your cock because you were begging for it so perfectly. Last night, you made me come so hard I could barely move.”

“You did that,” Yuri countered, stretching around his rim. “You made yourself come, I just babbled at you while you did it.”

“That helped, I fucking love that,” Otabek insisted, brushing his hair back from his face with his free hand.

“I want to be the one who makes you come. I don’t want to help you come, I want to _make_ you come. I want to make you _mine.”_ Yuri growled, dipping his head to kiss him bruisingly. “You like it both ways,” Yuri breathed into his mouth, and Otabek groaned against him as he pushed in the next finger. “And I want to give it to you.”

“Yeah,” Otabek acquiesced on a sigh, letting his head loll on the pillows. “Yeah okay. I’m yours.”

“Damn right,” Yuri snarled, attacking his neck with biting kisses as his fingers twisted inside him. He was still clumsy when it came to finding his prostate, confidence and enthusiasm didn’t make up for experience, but Otabek swiveled his hips and helped guide him with gasped and panted instructions.

“There,” he gasped when he’d found it, head pushed back into the pillow, trachea on display, just begging for Yuri to fit his teeth around it. He ground his fingers in hard circles. He’d been far too out of it last night to remember exactly what Otabek had done for him, but he could easily remember the panted instruction he’d been given when he’d opened him up the first time. He did everything twice as much and twice as hard, wanting to make his dick _weep_ before he even got inside him.

“I like being able to see you,” Yuri murmured to his chest, mouthing at his nipples again, seeing how far he could twist the barbell before it slipped away from his tongue.

“You want to fuck me like this?” Otabek asked, sounding unforgivably clearheaded. Yuri started flirting with a third finger, just testing around his rim. Otabek bit his lip when he felt it.

“Maybe I should,” Yuri mused. “Maybe I want to watch your eyes roll back while I fuck you.” Otabek arched a brow at him, apparently not overly convinced by his cockiness. “Or maybe,” Yuri continued, pressing meanly against his prostate. “Maybe I’ll put you on your face and fuck you like that.”

Otabek gasped a shocked moan under him, pushing down hard against his fingers, taking a third one in before Yuri had made the conscious decision to give it to him.

“Fuck, you’re incredibly like this,” Otabek groaned, the one hand holding his knee pulling it up even farther, the other fisting in his hair. Yuri marveled at him, hovering over him, realizing how small his boyfriend really was. He was thick in all the right places, but with his legs pulled up so easily, he fit so perfectly under Yuri’s taller frame.

“You look so good spread open for me,” Yuri murmured, his own cheeks flushing red from the awkward filthiness of his own words, but they seemed to work on his partner, earning him a huffing groan and a twitch around his fingers.

“I’m ready,” Otabek panted, fucking down against his hands, his leg flexing around Yuri’s waist for leverage. “Please,” he said, and Yuri’s cock throbbed. He now completely understood why Otabek liked hearing him beg so much.

“I want to fuck you without a condom, okay?” Yuri said, pulling his fingers free and grabbing his nearly numb cock, watching in abject amazement as he stroked the glans over his hole, soaked and winking at him.

“Are you sure?” Otabek panted, reaching towards the nightstand drawer as Yuri dribbled lube over his twitching cock. “It’ll help you last, so you can keep your promises.”

“Trust me,” Yuri growled, taking his ear into his mouth and biting down. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream.” Otabek moaned, grinding his wet cock against Yuri’s abs. “And when I come in you, I want you to feel it.” Otabek shuddered underneath him, his knee squeezing tightly around Yuri’s middle. “And then,” he said, feeling wild and brave, “I’m gonna lick it out and feed it to you.” He regretted it the second it was out of his mouth, sure that it was not something that people actually did. But then Otabek was whimpering under him, hands fisted in his hair, panting a breathless “yes, Yura, yes, fucking yes.”

He pushed in, watching carefully as his cock pressed into his body, even though it pulled his hair tightly against Otabek’s iron grip. He pressed the head in and then he pulled back out, his hand around the base keeping it steady. He pushed in again, just a tease. Otabek tried to rock his hips back, to force him in farther, but Yuri locked his arm around his leg, where it was wrapped around his waist, keeping him still, holding him open.

“So fucking good,” Yuri mumbled, mostly to himself, watching in awe as his partner parted for him so easily, swallowing him inch by inch, so greedy for whatever he was allowed to take in. “You want me so bad.”

“Yes, fuck me,” Otabek hissed through his teeth, sounding hungry and agitated.

“You hungry for me?” he asked, pulling out and pushing back in, just as slow as before. “You want me to feed your hungry hole?”

“What the fuck, Yuri, oh my god,” Otabek groaned, sounding equal parts scandalized and aroused. “Please, please just get in me.”

With pretty begging like that, Yuri couldn’t resist. He shoved all the way in, feeling how tight Otabek was around the end of his dick, where he hadn’t been teased and stretched. Otabek’s heels hooked together behind his back and locked him in close, his hands clenching in his hair and around his neck. Yuri settled on his elbows on either side of his partner’s head, tenderly stroking over the planes of his flushed face with one, gentle fingertip.

“You okay?” he asked, tracing Otabek’s panting mouth.

“I’ve never, n-n-no one’s ever,” Otabek stuttered, and Yuri’s heart nearly launched its way out of his chest at hearing how good he sounded, stuttering and stammering around his cock. “I’ve never let anyone fuck me bare before,” he confessed on a strained whisper and Yuri’s hips shoved farther forward, moaning brokenly into the damp space between them. He couldn’t tell, but he was pretty sure his dick had just spurted hot precome into his partner’s ass.

“Shit, fuck, Beka that’s so hot,” Yuri whined, pressing his forehead against the side of Otabek’s face, as close to losing control as he had been all night. “I’m the only person who’s ever going to fuck you like this.” He started a slow thrust, awkward at first, but quickly settling into a fast, shallow rhythm that kept Otabek panting, his hands squeezing around the back of his neck and his shoulder. “Right?” he asked, tangling his fist in the hair at the back of his neck, yanking back when Otabek didn’t answer him. “Tell me,” he growled, sucking on his wrenched neck.

“Only you,” Otabek promised, working one of his arms under Yuri’s so he could wrap it around his back. He nuzzled his nose into his blond hair. “Only you can ever fuck me like this. Құдай, you’re so good.”

“That’s right,” Yuri praised him, before shoving two fingers into his mouth and picking up his pace. Otabek groaned, biting down hard on his fingers. “Hey,” Yuri berated him, grabbing his jaw and shaking his head, like a dog. “ _Gentle._ ” Otabek moaned again, eyes squeezing shut and head tipping back, but he did release his clenched jaw and started sucking instead, the insides of his mouth relaxed and soft.

Yuri was starting to lose his breath. Even with the muted sensation, Otabek was tight around him, perfectly constricting. He could just imagine how hot and wet he would feel, and it made something in Yuri’s stomach ache with want, jealous of himself that he didn’t get to feel it. But the way Otabek was flushing all the way down his neck, and huffing out little sounds every time he fucked his hips forward, that made it all worth it. He grinned down at him, looking feylike and dangerous. He felt powerful like this, he felt strong and confident, and like Otabek trusted him to do this right.

He drew his fingers out of his mouth and planted his hands more firmly, trying to angle his thrusts better. Otabek’s fingernails scratched over his back. Longer than usual and painted black, they bit into his skin, holding on tightly as Yuri created a little more space between them. But when Yuri planted his knees wider, put more weight into his shoulders, and thrust forward again, Otabek let out a harsh grunt and quickly readjusted his legs so Yuri could keep fucking him that deeply, again and again.

Otabek was nearly folded in half, one of his knees hitched high up around Yuri’s back, the heel of the other bouncing against his ass as he pulsed into him. He jolted with each slap of his hips, and Yuri started to see sweat beading on his chest. His mouth was open, panting, small grunts and huffs occasionally falling from his lips like overripe fruit. Yuri risked fucking up his rhythm just to kiss him, pulling at his already swollen lips, sliding over them with his tongue. His stomach was soaked from Otabek leaking onto it, and Yuri couldn’t help running his fingers through the slick. He wrapped his hand around his cock, fingertips barely overlapping and stroked with his thrusts, making them hard and fast. Stinging slaps of skin filled the air around them and Yuri’s hair began to stick to his forehead and to the side of Otabek’s neck.

Yuri’s thighs were starting to burn, sweat was starting to roll down his face and he spit into his hand to keep Otabek’s cock slick. He was panting from exertion, fucking his partner in a rhythm that was hard, and deep, and demanding. But every time Otabek cursed brokenly, tossed his head back into the pillow, or clenched his fist in his hair, it was worth it.

“Yuri, Yuri,” Otabek gasped, sounding urgent, and Yuri stroked him faster, tightening his grip. “I’m gonna come.” And that had never sounded sexy or natural in porn before, but rolling off of his partner’s lips, the words sounding like the most perfect, filthy promise he had ever heard. Yuri put his head down and kept thrusting, the muscles in his stomach already starting to feel hot and liquid, but he kept his eyes on Otabek’s face. He wanted to see it.

When Otabek came, his eyes shuttered shut and his teeth dug into his lip. His jaw jutted out, sharp and mean, and his hands clenched where they were dug into the skin of his back. His cock sprayed over his stomach, splattering from the force with which Yuri brought him off. He groaned and grunted and huffed through his nose, until Yuri had wrung the last splashes from him and he devolved to whimpers, squirming in his grip.

Yuri slid free from his body with a squelch. He laid down with him, stretching out on his side and catching his breath. Long fingers pet over his sweaty skin, soothing him and grounding him like Otabek had done so many times in the last two days. Yuri grinned smugly at him, already feeling victorious, satisfied that he’d fucked his lover well, exactly how he deserved.

It didn’t take long for Otabek to recover, and soon he was rolling towards Yuri, kissing him greedily and wrapping his hand around his still present erection.

“You didn’t come in me,” he said, having the audacity to pout. He swirled his palm over the head of his cock in a way that would’ve been guaranteed to have him wheezing and cramping as he tried not to come on the spot. As it was, he just hummed at the distantly pleasant pressure.

“Not yet,” he said, trailing his hand down over Otabek’s hip. He grabbed his knee and pulled it forward over his own hip. He squirmed closer. “Let me know when you’re ready to go again.”

“Again?” Otabek asked, a little bit of sex-haze starting to clear from his eyes. “How are you still hard? And what have you done with my hair-pin trigger boyfriend?”

“I put Marcus’ gift to good use,” Yuri admitted, grateful that there wasn’t enough blood in his upper half for him to blush.

“You didn’t,” Otabek said, eyes going wide.

“Oh, I did,” Yuri grinned, grabbing his cock again and brushing the head over his abs.

“So you can keep fucking me and fucking me?” Otabek asked, as if his pupils could’ve blown any wider they would’ve started invading the white parts of his eyes.

“For about forty more minutes, yeah.”

“Oh fuck, okay, yes, get back in me,” Otabek said immediately, rolling out of his hold to brace himself on hands and knees, picking his perfect ass up off the bed. Yuri laughed at his eagerness, reveling in not being the one gagging for it this time. He kissed a trail up the Kazakh’s spine before slowly pushing back in. Otabek shuddered, head dropped between his perfect, muscled shoulders and Yuri nipped at his neck.

Yuri was content to start slowly again. He straightened up and ran his hands up and down his partner’s back, marveling at the obvious strength there. “Beka? Remember at Leo’s party, when you told me you’d made someone come more than four times in an hour?” Otabek clenched around him, shaking already.

“Yura,” he began, his voice already sounding like glass.

“Shh,” he shushed him, gentle swells of his hips bringing them together over and over. “Focus. Your time started a few minutes ago.”

“иә, иә, иә, give it to me,” Otabek bit out, already kicking his hips back brutally. Yuri clung to him, his fingertips leaving pale spots on his hips as he tried to keep control over what he started. “C’mon, harder,” Otabek ordered, and Yuri complied. Not without slapping a damp hand down over his asscheek, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking his head back, but yes, he fucked him harder.

“Is that better?” he asked him, craning his head back so he could whisper into his ear. “Is that hard enough?” Otabek was huffing and growling on each bruising thrust, but he still found the breath to respond.

“No,” he said, just to be difficult, and Yuri spanked him again, on the exact same place as the firs time.

“Brat,” he said through a smile.

“Now you know what it’s like,” Otabek with a breathless laugh.

“Making jokes,” Yuri observed, trying not to sound as out of breath as he was. “I must really not be fucking you hard enough.” He paused for long enough to push his knees farther apart, pushing down on Otabek’s lower back so his hips were at the perfect height for him to sink inside. Then he ran his two hands up his back and grabbed him on either side of the neck.

When he started thrusting again, the sound of skin slapping skin was brutal in the air and almost covered the sounds of Otabek’s choking moans. His second orgasm took them both by surprise, coming untouched a few minutes after Yuri accidentally found a perfect rhythm hammering down against his prostate. Yuri promised himself he would memorize that fucking spot and everything he did to touch it. He’d memorize that thrust like a skating routine, if it meant Otabek kept making that shocked groaning gasp, begging him to stay right there.

The third one was even harder, Yuri not giving him a break, following him down when he collapsed forward against the bed. He forced his knees apart and wrapped one of his arms up under his neck and shoulder, fucking him in brutal bursts that drug his oversensitive cock through the wet mess he’d made of the sheets. On the third one, he screamed, biting into the pillows, hands scrabbling for purchase, hips bucking wildly under Yuri’s weight.

He took longer to calm down after that, looking empty-eyed and shaken. Yuri spooned up behind him, his cock beginning to ache with feeling again, but worried he’d pushed too hard. His hands shook as he ran them over Otabek’s arms and chest, asking anxiously if he was okay, if he was doing okay. He kissed along his sweaty hairline, resting his hand gently against his heaving ribs. Eventually, Otabek lifted his own leg, holding it by the knee with a shaky arm, and asked him to give him another. Yuri had to obey, wriggling against him as tightly as possible and pressing his cock back into his hole that was hot and swollen.

“Talk to me,” Otabek asked, his voice scream-roughed and sleepy. And so he did. He told him how fucking good he looked, how delicious, sweaty and flushed down to his stomach. He told him how good it felt to make him lose control, to make him a wet, writhing mess, to repay even a fraction of the pleasure he gave to him. He told him how much he loved him, and how tight he was, and how he’d never been happier. He told him how much he liked him like this, come-drunk and well-fucked, told him how good it made him feel to do him like this. He told him he was better than a gold medal and tasted sweeter than ice.

Yuri’s hips were starting to lose rhythm as his cock gained more and more sensation, lost in his own awkward babbling as he tried to convey everything he felt like he needed to say. His words stalled out, unable to find an adequate way of describing how much Otabek filled him up, like fucking sunshine, making every part of him feel worthwhile and joyous. Yuri coaxed each gasp out of him with slow, tender fucking. His mouth slid all over his neck and shoulders, his hands covering even more of him and he fucked gently against his prostate in long, lazy thrusts. When Otabek came again, he was sweating and swearing and he’d flushed all the way down across his shoulder blades, or maybe Yuri had just sucked him pink.

“Fuck, Beka, gorgeous, you’re doing so well,” he said, easing him onto his back, wanting to touch his face, wanting to splay over him and keep him safe. “You look so good like this,” he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” he said, feeling embarrassed by the sentiment. “Thank you for letting me have you like this.”

He wrapped a hand around his wet, mostly soft cock, and Otabek flinched, pulling his knees in around himself.

“Please,” he gasped, voice sounding broken and old. “I need a break, it’s too much right now.”

Yuri’s cock was beginning to throb between his legs again, so he distracted himself by lazily trailing his mouth over every part of Otabek he could touch. He started by tenderly and carefully cleaning all the come off his stomach and chest, where it had smeared in wide stripes over his skin, letting him taste it in slow, lazy kisses. The Kazakh’s eyes were still closed, and occasionally his muscles would seize up under his mouth, but mostly he just hummed at the gentle bath. After sucking the sweat off his neck and thighs, Yuri slid his tongue into his wet hole. Legs splayed out and limp, Yuri had to shoulder his way between them. Otabek’s thighs were thick and heavy, and Yuri needed to expend a certain amount of strength to hold one up and out of the way without help. Still, he made room between them and settled in, curling his tongue into the loose hole. He remembered how good it felt to have Otabek lick him out after fingering him to a ridiculously powerful orgasm. So even though the lube was thick and tasted like plastic, he mouthed over him gently, hoping to soothe away any lingering hurt.

“Yura,” Otabek mumbled and he looked up to him immediately, pulling his head from between his thighs and leaning his cheek against his hipbone.

“Bek, you look so good like this, I love you like this,” he babbled, pressing distracted kisses to his trimmed triangle of pubic hair. “Feeling better?”

“фажайып,” he murmured with a smile, and Yuri knew what that one meant by now. He grinned and pressed another damp kiss to his skin.

“You want more?”

“Yeah,” Otabek sighed, shifting his hips. “Your fingers, and your mouth.”

“Okay,” Yuri said, complying eagerly. This whole affair had been about him having control for once, but what he’d really needed was control over himself, not over Otabek. He could take directions and provide pleasure and still feel like an equal contributor. So he grinned before taking the tip of his cock tenderly between his lips, covering his fingers in another thick layer of lube and sliding two in gently.

Otabek hummed at him encouragingly, but Yuri couldn’t help but feel like he was _waiting_ for him. He knew his blowjob skills were still minimal, and that he hadn’t found his prostate without direction before. But Yuri also knew that he had over a week left in Kazakhstan and the rest of their lives together for him to learn everything there was to know about his body. So he let himself be guided, and he let his mouth be sloppy, and in a few slow minutes Otabek was breathing hard again and his dick was pulsing thin streams of precome onto his tongue.

And then Otabek’s hands were in his hair, clenching tightly and pushing roughly, and as Yuri choked he had the realization that maybe Otabek had been holding some things back for a good reason. He gagged, and his partner didn’t seem to care, groaning louder and pushing down stronger. His cock shoved into his throat and Yuri frantically tried to breathe through it, even as his eyes started to water.

He tried to growl reprimandingly, the hand holding onto his hip digging in with his nails. But Otabek, kinky fucker that he was, liked that sort of thing, because then he was fucking harder against his throat, cursing brokenly, thrusting back against his fingers. Yuri whined in protest, trying hard to control his very sensitive gag reflex and breathe at the same time. The vibrations in the back of his throat of his whimpering protests seemed to be what tipped Otabek over the edge, and with a hard yank down on Yuri’s head, he came.

Yuri pulled back with a harsh gasp, dedicatedly stroking him through his orgasm, from the outside and the inside, as he coughed raggedly. Otabek writhed under his hands and Yuri blinked tears from his eyes so he could watch.

“So good, Yura, so sweet for me,” Otabek said as the last pulses of his orgasm were wrung out onto his stomach. Yuri just coughed, pulling his hands away to hack into his elbow. He was sure his face was red and there were tears still rolling out of his eyes. Otabek reached up with a shaking hand and thumbed them away. “Tomorrow, I want to teach you how to suck me properly,” he said, and Yuri’s dick gave an enthusiastic twitch. “That way, when I fuck your face, you’ll like it.”

“You keep promising to teach me things,” he breathed, light-headed and scratchy-voiced. “You haven’t delivered.”

“Haven’t I?” Otabek asked, with a smirk so satisfied and lazy that it made something primal inside Yuri curl up happily in his chest, the sight of a mate well-fucked making him feel smug.

“I consider myself self-taught,” Yuri lied loftily and Otabek grinned up at him, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him down into a sloppy kiss. His legs fell open around his hips easily, flexibility and multiple orgasms allowing up to open himself completely without strain.

“You said you’d come inside me,” Otabek murmured against his lips, reaching down to grab Yuri’s cock and direct it towards his hole. Yuri gasped when his hand closed around him, and bit his lip around a moan when his head found his puffy, swollen hole.

“You can go again?” he asked, worried but selfishly needy. “You’re not too sore?”

“Kitten, I’ll feel you for days,” Otabek promised on a groan, playing with his own hole, using Yuri’s dick to make himself feel good. Yuri just moaned, shoving his dick forward, awkwardly crushing Otabek’s hand beneath them. But then he was back inside where it was hot and wet and he could finally _feel it_ , and he didn’t care about awkward hands or hair in his mouth or the little line between Otabek’s brows that said there was pain mixed with that pleasure.

“You can feel it?” Otabek asked, frantically pawing at his hair, trying to push it out off his sweaty face as Yuri fucked into him harshly, again and again.

“Yes,” he bit out through gritted teeth, and suddenly it was just like the first time Yuri fucked him. His hips were jerking jitteringly, and the pleasure was fizzling out all rational thought, his control slipping through his fingers and teeth. But this time, everything was harder and faster and hurt more. Yuri’s abs and thighs burned with the gratifying ache of a good work out, and it made the heat in his gut stronger. His skin was pink from colliding with Otabek’s muscled thighs and ass for so long, stinging with each, unstoppable thrust.

“You gonna come in me?” Otabek said, sweet talking. “You finally going to give me your come?”

“I liked you better when you were so fucked out you couldn’t talk,” Yuri grunted at him, biting at his jawline. This time, when a smack cracked through the room, it was Yuri’s asscheek painted red. Otabek fisted his hand in his hair and pulled, hard.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled in his ear. “You love me like this.”

And then Yuri was coming so hard he couldn’t even complain. He just panted into his partner’s ear at his hips rocked and jolted and he sprayed himself inside his lover.

Against his severe protests, Otabek wriggled away from him, batting away Yuri’s grasping, clawing hands, wrapping his hand around his cock as his body released it. He kept just the head in and stroked him off with his hand. At Yuri’s whimpered complaints, Otabek explained.

“If you leave it all too deep, you wont be able to get it.” Yuri shook his head uncomprehendingly for a long moment before he remembered. His promise, or his threat, made without thinking, to lick his come out of Otabek and feed it to him.

“Are you serious?” he panted at him, rolling his overheated forehead against his partner’s cut chest.

“Weren’t you?” Otabek asked, and the hot desire in his voice was so strong that Yuri knew he couldn’t resist. Still buzzing from orgasm, Yuri collapsed against him before worming his way down his body and pressing his mouth to his sloppy hole. Immediately, he felt come spill onto his tongue. He groaned in mild disgust but pushed in deeper for more. When enough had collected in his mouth that he was in danger of swallowing it himself, he pulled up and crawled back over Otabek’s flushed chest. Otabek opened his mouth wide for his kiss, and Yuri happily gave him everything, shivering at the hungry way Otabek’s tongue scraped over his, swallowing it all.

On a hunch, Yuri plugged two fingers back inside him, whispering against his lips that he wanted him to keep the rest for a little while. Otabek quivered underneath him, moaning and clenching hard around his digits.

“Fuck,” Yuri groaned, exhausted, curling up next to him, pushing his other arm under his neck to pull him close.

“Fuck,” Otabek agreed, resting his pink cheek on his shoulder. They relaxed together for several long moments, trying to find their breath. Eventually Yuri’s wrist began to cramp and he withdrew his hand from his body, choosing to wrap it innocently around his back, holding him close.

“We can’t just keep having sex, you know,” Otabek said after a while.

“Why not?” Yuri laughed, rolling away from him as his body struggled to cool itself. Otabek pushed himself up on an elbow and smiled down at him ruefully.

“We should probably leave this apartment every now and then, maybe wear some clothes, do activities that not require lube and soundproof walls.”

“You don’t have soundproof walls.”

“Another reason to give my neighbors a break.”

Yuri laughed, and Otabek smiled at him like his laughter was his favorite song.

“Alright, we can go sightseeing tomorrow,” Yuri agreed, petting through his undercut with the hand that wasn’t covered in come and lube. Or, at least, less covered. “And go to all your favorite museums and whatever. But after, when we get back, there are a few other things I want to try.”

“If all your ideas work out like this one did,” Otabek said, flopping down onto his stomach and going boneless in the sheets, “I will die a very happy man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


	15. Trying New Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri tries some new things; featuring, cute date ideas, recreational drug use, and some new skillz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow has it been a whole month since I last updated this thing? In my defense, my sister just got married last night !!! So I was v busy being Maid of Honor and everything and working on wedding stuff. But, if you noticed, I have posted two other Yuri on Ice works, so plz hop over and give those a read.
> 
> This chapter does include some explicit drug use. No worries if that's not your thing, you can probably skip those parts and be okay, but if anyone needs a really explicit warning of what to avoid, just drop down and leave me a comment. 
> 
> All sex here is fully informed and consensual.

The next morning they were standing under the glass ceiling of Otabek’s favorite art museum. He was talking excitedly about the restoration department and their emphasis on traditional Kazakh materials and style, and Yuri looped his arm around his waist and leaned into him as they stared at paintings. Yuri wasn’t really listening, but he appreciated the way Otabek’s chest rumbled with the cadence of his words. Yuri looked down at him, a little in love with the excitement in his eyes. Unable to resist the way the weak Almaty sunshine fell through the glass ceiling onto his lashes, Yuri leaned in to drop a kiss on his moving lips.

When Yuri released him, Otabek blinked at him with a pretty blush. Yuri kissed him again and went back to looking at the painting. When Otabek didn’t keep talking, he glanced at him encouragingly.

“What were you saying?”

“You don’t care about Kazakh art,” Otabek said shyly, tucking in the corner of his mouth in a way that Yuri knew meant he was embarrassed.

“I care about how much _you_ care about Kazakh art,” Yuri said, grinning. “You’re cute when you’re excited about art. It reminds me that I’m dating a nerd.”

“Fuck you,” Otabek said good-naturedly, hip checking his partner, even though he stayed close with the arm wrapped around his waist. “Really, though,” he said, taking his hand and guiding him around the exhibit. “Are you having fun?”

“I always have fun when I’m with you,” Yuri answered quietly, with an embarrassing amount of sincerity.

“I think this museum is a really good one,” Otabek insisted earnestly, and Yuri knew that there were precious few things that Otabek cared about enough to embarrassed over.

“It’s really cool,” Yuri said. “I like all the tigers and naked people.”

“You would,” Otabek said, chuckling. “Hungry?”

“Basically always.”

 

The next hour found them sharing a dessert in Otabek’s favorite lunch spot, people-watching as the crowd walked by their window.

They’d gotten some crazy looks, the two of them, sitting there with bruises on their faces and throats, Otabek’s bruised and cracked hand carefully folded around Yuri’s lily-white one. Otabek didn’t give the lingering stares any reaction, but Yuri liked to snarl at anyone who looked too long at them. He thought Otabek’s skin wore bruises beautifully, and it took all of his propriety not to lean across their table and suck a mess of nasty bruises into Otabek’s throat, so that they’d match completely. To distract himself, he’d been watching pedestrians move along the sidewalks outside. Old people, young couples in love, families too, the streets were busy and good for people-watching.

“Do you want kids?” Otabek asked suddenly, after Yuri laughed inappropriately loudly when a toddler face-planted on the sidewalk outside.

“I don’t know,” Yuri said, turning back to him with a surprised peak to his brow. “I haven’t thought about it before. I feel like I’m still a kid.”

“Yeah, me too,” Otabek said, sweeping his thumb over his knuckles. “But I think I want kids. Eventually.” Yuri brought his hand up to his lips, kissing the pad of his thumb gently.

“You’ll be a good dad, Beka,” he said. “Eventually,” he stressed. “Like, not for _at least_ ten more years.”

“Agreed,” he said, pushing the last bite of cake towards Yuri on the plate. Yuri just opened his mouth and waited for Otabek to feed it to him.

“I am excited for Viktor and Katsuki’s to have kids, though,” Yuri said, chewing with his mouth open. “By then I’ll have my own place, so I’ll be able to go home when I get sick of the thing, and I can just show up and be the cool uncle.”

“Brother,” Otabek said, poorly disguising it in a cough. Yuri ignored it.

“I’ll teach it bad words, and feed it tons of sugar, and take it to the zoo.” Yuri’s breath caught and his eyes glittered. “Wait a second, doesn’t Almaty have a zoo?”

“It’s nothing like Moscow’s Zoo,” Otabek cautioned him. “But if you like birds of prey, sometimes they do feeding demonstrations.” He sipped his tea, smirking at him, knowing full well that Yuri was vibrating in his seat.

“Let’s do it.”

 

Yuri’s fingers were sticky with cotton candy as he clung to the fence keeping him separated from the keeper as she threw little bits of meat up into the air. The falcon swept by impossibly fast, snatching the food out of the air faster than his eye could follow it. He grinned and laughed excitedly, Otabek doing the same behind him, arms loosely clasped around his waist. Yuri hoped he didn’t grow any more; Otabek was just barely able to rest his chin on his shoulder, with Yuri slouching against him.

“If I didn’t skate, I’d want to be a vet,” Yuri said.

“You could do it after skating,” Otabek said.

“I’m eighteen already and haven’t done upper secondary yet,” Yuri mused. “I don’t think I could go back to school.”

“You’re definitely bright enough. Great at math.”

“You’re just saying that because you suck at math,” Yuri teased, dropping his head to knock it against his partner’s lightly.

“Well, I can’t be amazing at everything. That would just make everyone else look bad.” Yuri’s laughter lit up the park, sending a few birds in exhibits behind them tittering with matching music.

The zoo’s large cat exhibit was disappointingly small, but Otabek said improvements had been made in other exhibits in the last few years, and that quality of life improved for the animals that were still there. Yuri begrudgingly acknowledged that he supposed that was okay. However, he still made a stink about not knowing what to get in the gift shop if they didn’t have any big cats.

Then he walked pasted the massive eagle statue prominently featured in the park, and saw the awe-filled look in Otabek’s eyes when he looked at it, and he knew. He convinced an older couple to take a picture of them in front of the statue, and when they got to the gift shop. Otabek picked a new bear for his collection and Yuri picked a tawny, fuzzy eagle. He held it against his back and took an awkward snapchat of him looking over his shoulder with an exaggerated frown. He captioned it “Am I Otabek Altin yet?” and cackled to himself when Otabek opened it.

“My eagle is way cooler than yours,” he argued, but he screenshotted the snap anyway.

“Sure it is,” Yuri said, looping his arm around his shoulders, dipping his head to kiss the top of the eagle that peeked up through his collar on the back of his neck.

 

“So, what do you want to do next?” Otabek asked, leaning his head back against the glass as they rode the metro away from the zoo. Yuri leaned in close to his ear, excitement and nervousness evident in his voice.

“I want to do some drugs.”

Otabek didn’t say anything, and when Yuri pulled back, he saw it was because he was trying to hold in laughter. His eyebrows were raised and his lips were pressed were pressed into a thin line as he tried to keep a straight face.

“What?” Yuri asked, shoving him in the chest, and finally a bark of laughter escaped his boyfriend.

“ _Some_ drugs?” Otabek said, laughter brightening his deep voice. “Just, some, casual, unspecified _drugs_?”

Yuri shoved him again, trying not to giggle through the pout he was wearing.

“Stop laughing at me!” he demanded. “I don’t know anything about drugs, I don’t know which ones I should try.”

“Then how do you know you want to?” Otabek asked, sobering a little, though Yuri could still detect the slightest smile lingering in the corners of his eyes.

“Because you have, everyone else has, and I feel like its one of those things I’m missing out on by being a professional athlete,” Yuri answered honestly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Fine,” Otabek said, rolling his eyes and pulling out his phone. He entered the passcode for his phone, which Yuri knew was “YURA” and send a text. Then he locked his phone, slid it back into the pocket of his sweatshirt, and settled farther into his seat, relaxed.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Otabek said, looking sideways at him. “Unless you weren’t serious?”

“No, I’m serious,” Yuri said, bouncing in his seat with jittery excitement. “What now? Do we go do a drug deal?”

Otabek laughed at him again, grabbing a handful of hand and tugging him down into a soft kiss.

“No, tiger,” he teased. “We’re just going to a friend’s house.”

 

Yuri supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when Paulo opened the door.

“Well, well, well, I hear we’ve got a virgin here,” he said, ushering them into the apartment. Yuri coughed before he was through the doorway, the haze in the air was so thick, but the style of the room was still comfortable and clean. He saw the girl with the braids from his party, as well as Otabek’s best friend Leena and her girlfriend. They were all lounging on the couch and greeted him happily.

“You think I’ve been here for three days and still have my virginity?” Yuri snorted. “I thought you were supposed to be Otabek’s friend. You should know him better.”

Paulo laughed and brushed by them to drop into a chair.

“I meant you’ve never smoked before,” he said, taking a long drink of water from the bottle on the table next to him. “But it’s nice to know that your host is taking care of you in this beautiful country of ours.”

“You’re not even a native, shut the fuck up,” Ksenia barked, kicking out towards him and missing wildly.

“You wound me,” Paulo said, hand pressed against his chest, pouting at the giggling girls on the sofa. “Speaking of, I heard what happened to you two, but I didn’t think it was that bad,” he said, the corner of his smile tucking down in sympathy. “You two okay?” he asked, gesturing to their bruised faces.

“Yeah, it’s not so bad. Yuri likes it,” Otabek said, flexing his hands, smirking at Yuri when he caught him looking.

“Ah, young Yuri,” Paulo said, laughingly. “I’m glad they only got one half of your face, or we wouldn’t be able to see that adorable blush.” Yuri’s lip curled, something acidic on the tip of his tongue, but then Paulo just waved his hand, dispellingly. “Anyway,” he said, returning his attention to the pair of them. “We’ve got plenty of bud, but I’ve got some of your edibles, too.”

“Ugh, Otabek, the lame athlete, Mr. I Don’t Want to Fuck Up My Lungs, over here,” Leena said, mockingly, before taking a small bowl from her partner and taking a hit. “Eating his pussy edibles like a bitch,” she said after, her words tinged with smoke.

“The only one eating pussy here is you,” Otabek said easily, taking Yuri’s hand and guiding him away from the (apparently?) good-natured jeering and into the kitchen. There was an old style breadbox on the counter, and when Otabek slid the lid up, there were all kinds of desserts inside, wrapped individually in plastic wrap.

“Whoa,” Yuri said, suddenly nervous. Still excited, but a little nervous, too. “These all have drugs in them?”

“Please, sound a little less like you’ve never done anything illegal in your life,” Otabek said, a smile in the corners of his mouth. Yuri flushed.

“I was very sheltered, okay.”

“Hey,” Otabek said, grabbing his hand as he reached for a brownie. “You don’t have to do this.” He brought his hand up to his lips to kiss. “I’ll still think you're cool. And a badass. A total badass.”

“Now, you're just being a dick,” Yuri growled playfully, snapping his teeth at him. Otabek chuckled again, but this time he let Yuri feel it in his chest, winding him up in his arms and pressing a light kiss to his lips. Yuri got a little distracted, feeling like it couldn’t have been just this morning that he last let his boyfriend’s tongue sneak into his mouth. He sighed and let himself be caged against the counter, Otabek’s hands confident on his hips, kissing him soundly.

“We can hear you,” Paulo shouted into the kitchen. “You're loud kissers. It's gross and unappealing.”

“Don’t mind him, he’s straight and boring,” Otabek assured him, popping another kiss against his lips before detangling himself and turning back to the edibles. “Brownies are a good place to start. You never know what your first time is going to be like, but this will probably give you the same floaty feeling a few glasses of wine do.” He handed one to Yuri and grabbed a marshmallow rice bar for himself.

“Wait, what are those?” Yuri asked.

“This?” Otabek said, holding it up as he unwrapped. “This would fuck you up. Start with the brownie.”

Yuri watched enviously as Otabek crunched into his treat, before unwrapping his own. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.

“It tastes like…” Yuri trailed off, trying to describe the peculiar flavor clinging to the back of his tongue.

“Weed, Yura,” Otabek said, laughing again. “That’s what weed tastes like.” Yuri shrugged and took another bite. “Eat half of that, and in an hour, you can eat the rest, if you want.”

“I didn’t know drugs had so many rules,” Yuri grumbled, chewing thoughtfully.

“I just want you to have a good time,” Otabek said, turning and heading back into the main sitting area. He claimed a cushy armchair across from Paulo’s and drug Yuri down into his lap. Yuri wondered if his ass would ever personally meet a chair again in its life.

Leena called his name, but then started giggling so hard she couldn’t ask her question or tell her story, whatever it was she wanted to say. She tried a few times, breaking into laughter, before, red faced and panting, she got a hold of herself.

“Did you find Alia’s present yet?” she asked, and Yuri didn’t know what was so funny about that.

“No?” She was off again, collapsing against Ksenia’s side. “What’s so funny?”

“Beks, you have to tell us when you find it,” the other girl insisted.

“Oh, he’s going to lose his shit,” Ksenia promised.

“What is it?” Yuri asked. He’d forgotten about the backpack. Otabek had carried it home from the alley outside the club, and he’d tossed it in the corner of the room, too intent on flinging Yuri onto the bed to put it down with Yuri’s things. Not that he was complaining, of course. That night had been far better than any other birthday present in the world.

“Can’t tell you, don’t want to ruin the surprise,” Ksenia said, miming zipping her lips.

“Ominous,” Otabek observed, but didn’t seem concerned, if the even pace of his thumb sweeping over Yuri’s hip bone was evidence of anything.

“Trust me, Bek, you’re going to lose your goddamn mind,” Leena promised, eyes gleaming dangerously.

“Well, fuck,” Yuri complained. “Is it my birthday or his?”

“Yours, darling, definitely yours,” Ksenia said placatingly, petting over her girlfriend’s black hair. “And trust me, he’ll fuck you like a princess, I’m sure of it.”

Yuri sputtered at that, but he didn’t actually have anything to say. So he snorted inelegantly and crossed his arms over his chest, slouching backwards into Otabek’s laughing chest.

“What are you laughing at, Mr. Chuckles?” Yuri asked, and it wasn’t his most cutting moniker, but his cheeks were still hot and he was actually very in love with the way Otabek looked when he was laughing.

“Just can’t wait to see what she got you,” he said innocently.

“Uh huh,” Yuri said with obvious disbelief. He checked the time on his phone and sighed dramatically. “It’s been forever, and I don’t feel anything yet.”

“Just be patient, kitten,” Otabek said, nuzzling into his hair. “You’ll know when it hits.” Yuri just grumbled and made himself comfortable in Otabek’s lap, kicking off his sneakers and pulling his legs up, turning sideways to curl up against his chest.

“Christ, how can someone so tall bend like that?” Paulo asked. “I could never sit like that.” He tried, comically, to pull his knees to his chest in his chair. He was embarrassingly inflexible and Yuri smirked at him, straightening one leg up perfectly, quirking his brow for added effect when Otabek leaned forward to dig his teeth into his raised calf.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through Instagram while conversation continued around him. It might’ve been rude, but he and Otabek had been out all day, and he needed a little bit of a break from social interaction. When they wanted his attention, they called his name and spoke in Russian. Otherwise, he was free to entertain himself on his phone, occasionally tilting his face up to press light kisses to the underside of Otabek’s jaw.

It was only after several long moments of peaceful scrolling that Yuri found something worth commenting on. It was a picture of Guang Hong and Leo together in New York City, and Yuri had planned on commenting something about how they must be following him and Beka for relationships goals, or something clever. He went to type, and froze.

“Beka,” he said, voice rising in mild concern. “Beka, my thumbs are different sizes.”

The room was silent for half a moment before it was filled with raucous laughter.

“Otabek, I’m serious, my thumbs feel weird,” he said, showing him his thumbs, poised to type on the screen. But one of them felt longer than the other, or maybe one was moving slower than the other. Either way, his rapid-fire texting was uncoordinated and uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, Yura,” Otabek said, grabbing his hands in one of his. Yuri dropped his phone and held on tightly. “Your thumbs are fine. Does anything else feel weird?”

“Not really,” he said, but then Otabek swept his thumb over the back of his hand, and his awareness zeroed in on that sensation. “Do that again,” he demanded, and watched as Otabek continued to pet him in that small, gentle arc. He stared at his thumb passing over his snow-pale skin for what felt like an hour, but when he finally turned back to the room and everyone else in it, they were still laughing and holding their thumbs out to him and each other. It had only been a minute.

“Oh wow,” he said, and the laughter began anew.

 

 

After an indeterminate amount of time (Yuri didn’t have a super good relationship with the concept and perception of time at the moment), Otabek apparently got tired of running his fingers through his hair and suggested they go home. Yuri agreed easily, willing to follow Otabek anywhere, and eager to get him alone again. If Otabek’s fingers in his hair felt that good, he wanted to know where they might feel even better.

They walked from Paulo’s house, fingers tangled, arms swinging between them.

“Still having a good time?”

“Oh yeah,” Yuri said, stretching his mouth exaggeratedly over the syllables. He was glad Otabek hadn’t let him eat the other half of that brownie; he couldn’t even imagine how weird he’d feel if he’d had the rest.

“What do you want to do when we get home?” Otabek asked. Yuri draped his arm over his shoulders, leaning against him so he could whisper in his ear.

“I want you to teach me how to touch myself,” he breathed against his cheek. “Like you told me you would.”

“Fuck,” Otabek cursed, arm snaking around his waist and holding him tightly. “You sure that’s what you want?” Yuri nodded, letting his forehead rub over the fuzz of Otabek’s undercut.

“I want you to touch me everywhere, run your hands all over me, and teach me how to make it feel like it did when you did it.”

“Құдай, I don’t know who taught you to talk like that, but they deserve a fucking medal,” Otabek growled, dragging him faster down the sidewalk until the buildings rang with Yuri’s laughter.

 

“Show me how you do it,” Otabek demanded, when they were naked in their bed again. Yuri was splayed out over top of the blankets, blond hair spilling everywhere, squirming as he was looked at. Otabek sat at his hip, legs crossed, eyes scraping over every part of him.

“Touch me,” Yuri whined, placing the ankle of one of his legs on Otabek’s shoulder. He obliged, kissing the boney knob of the joint and running his hands up and down his leg.

“Come on, kitten, show me what you do,” Otabek murmured against his shin, the dirty words tickling Yuri into action. He’d squirted lube over his stomach, to drag in messy patterns over his skin while it warmed up. He covered two fingers and drew them down between his spread legs. The foot not on Otabek’s shoulder was planted on the bed, by his hip. Otabek slid his hands up and down the column of his thigh, looking past the pale muscle to watch Yuri push a finger in.

It was tight, like it always was, and Yuri gritted his teeth against the uncomfortable feeling. He pushed until it was in to the last knuckle and then he let out the breath he’d been holding. Otabek had made him feel god with two, so he fucked himself perfunctorily with the first finger to spread enough lube. That way, when he pushed in the second one, his face scrunched, but he didn’t make any embarrassing noises.

He _knew_ it was supposed to feel good. He had proof now, after the way Otabek touched him. For a long time, he thought it was just his body, that his body was different and wouldn’t let him enjoy this. But then Otabek stuck two fingers inside him and his world fucking exploded. He knew it would feel amazing, and with the drugs in his system and the way his skin lit up where Otabek was touching it, the pain was a lot less than it usually was.

“Yura, stop,” Otabek said, and when Yuri opened his eyes from where they were squeezed shut, his brow was pinched in concern. “Does that feel good?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “But I know it’s supposed to.”

“You’re going too fast,” Otabek said softly. He picked the ankle up off his shoulder and lifted it over his head to the other shoulder, tugging until Yuri’s hips followed and he was between his spread legs. “You have to open yourself up more,” He dropped the ankle to his new shoulder, pressing a kiss to the inside of the joint, letting his eyes travel down to where Yuri had pulled his fingers out, his hole wet and pink. He slid his hand down his raised leg, in to stroke his cock a few times, and then over to his other thigh, pushing it flat to the bed and out, spreading him further. Otabek swallowed, and Yuri felt it against his calf.

“You have to start slow, baby,” and if he hadn’t said it in that silky, smoky sex voice he had, Yuri would’ve kicked him for calling him that. As it was, he just bit his lip and stared up at him from under his lashes. “Remember what I did to you?” he asked, pressing his thumb against his hole, circling gently and then with more force. “Do that, start with that.” He pulled his hand away and Yuri replaced it with his own. He couldn’t use his thumb, the angle would’ve been too awkward for his wrist, so he used the pads of two fingers instead. Otabek ran the backs of his fingernails up and down his spread thighs. He circled over his hole, pressing harder when his body got hungry for it. He started to whine quietly when he wanted more.

“Remember how you did it for me?” Otabek asked, grabbing his wrist like he had then, curling Yuri’s fingers until only one was extended. Then he brought their hands between his legs again, guiding his finger to press gently against his hole. He guided Yuri to slide one finger in, and with more blood flow to the area from the gentle massage, the pressure felt better. And it was slower, Otabek’s hand on his wrist keeping his rhythm slow and easy as his body grew accustomed to the intrusion. He had to admit, it did feel better this way, taking it slowly. He’d never gotten this much pleasure out of just one finger before. To be fair, his whole body felt alive and hot, and Otabek could repetitively stroke his kneecap and he’d probably still be moaning, but still. Still, Otabek guided his wrist as he slowly learned to fuck himself properly.

“You can put another one in, if you want to,” Otabek said, and his voice was dark and gruff and made Yuri’s cock leak.

“Do you want me to?” he found himself asking, a little in love with the way Otabek’s eyes were trained to his hole, the way they watched their joined hands move between his thighs like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And maybe it was. Yuri certainly felt beautiful, splayed open for his partner, asking for pleasure, taking direction to achieve it.

“I want you to do what feels good,” was all Otabek said, so Yuri put a second finger in. He bit his lip against the stretch, but this time it wasn’t to keep a pained noise in. Rather, a pleasured moan that was eager to slip out of his mouth was kept in, and Yuri tasted the salt of sweat beginning to dampen his skin. He went slowly, like Otabek liked, like he’d shown him how to do for him. Yuri remembered slipping his fingers into his partner, and the way his body shuddered when the widest part of his knuckles pushed him open. He felt that himself now, and his breath left him in a rush when Otabek’s nails scraped along the milky skin of his thigh.

“I wanna,” he said, voice cracking before he swallowed. “I wanna find it. That spot you found in me.”

Otabek cursed, his back bowing as he buried his head in Yuri’s chest. “You’ve never found your prostate before?” he asked breathlessly, and Yuri whimpered at the way his lips pressed against his arm, dragging over them as he flexed his forearm to push fingers into himself. “No wonder you were scared, kitten,” Otabek murmured, crawling up his body, biting along his stomach and chest until he got to his ear and latched on with lips and teeth. “You didn’t know how good it would be, to have something hard and thick in you.” Yuri threw his head back and gasped towards the ceiling, fingers twisting wetly inside himself, desperately searching for that spot. Otabek settled against him, mouth hot on his neck, dick pressing wetly against Yuri’s thigh, his arm and leg pinned between their bodies.

“Please, Beka,” he found himself begging, fingers moving frustratedly. He had no idea how long he’d been inside himself, how long he’d been restlessly twitching his hips, searching for that perfect angle. It could’ve been days or seconds, all he knew was that his skin was hungry for that rush. Folded up as he was, one leg still hooked over Otabek’s shoulder, his knee pressed up against his chest, Yuri felt like he was close, just out of reach of that center of pleasure hidden inside his body. “Help me?” he whined, bottom lip poked out sweetly, big eyes blinking innocently, and Otabek groaned against him, dick pulsing a drop of moisture against his thigh.

“Of course, kitten, I’ll take care of you,” Otabek rumbled, tracing his hand down his tiring forearm and extracting his wet fingers from his hole. He swept his one finger through the wetness there before sinking into him. Yuri arched his back, swallowing him in easily, though his one finger went far deeper than his two had gone. “Is that good, sweetheart?” Otabek asked, and Yuri wanted to bite him each time he let some new, sickeningly sweet pet name fall from his lips. He settled for fisting his hands in his hair and shoving his tongue into his mouth.

They kissed for long minutes, Yuri losing himself in the liquid slide of their tongues, the velvet smoothness of his lips against him. All of his awareness narrowed down to the repetitive movement of their kiss. Until, that is, Otabek’s finger found that spot that made pleasure wrap around his spine. Yuri cried out into his mouth, surprised and unprepared for the way fire raced over his skin as Otabek pushed a second finger in and circled around his prostate with unerring ease. His fingers were thicker than Yuri’s own, and even through the haze of chemicals and endorphins, Yuri felt the stretch, though it didn’t burn like it had before. His partner buried his teeth in his neck, and there was pounding on the other side of the wall, and Yuri clenched down on the fingers inside him.

“There, that’s where it is,” Otabek was panting in his ear, and Yuri could barely hear him over the crashing of his own heart. “Give me your hand, Yura,” he heard him ask, but he couldn’t obey, not when both of this hands were cutting crescent moons into his shoulders and he used the leg hooked up around him as leverage to fuck himself down, again and again. He cried out when Otabek took his hand away, leaving him empty and wet and open. Otabek took his hand, wrenched it from his own flesh and drug it down between his thighs again. “Come on, with me,” he said, and he pressed one of Yuri’s wet fingertips to his hole and waited for it to sink in, before he pushed one of his own in with it.

Yuri moaned, burying his head in Otabek’s shoulder, at once appalled and aroused at the filthiness of his finger and Otabek’s both sliding inside him.

“Feel it?” Otabek asked, his fingertip circling around his prostate. Yuri’s own finger still fell short. The angle was different, and he couldn’t get inside himself deep enough.

“Beka, I can’t,” he said, and Otabek hummed thoughtfully before pulling out again. Yuri whined, pushing a second finger in, trying to reach for it. His partner sat up between his thighs, though Yuri’s nails dug in harshly, scraping when he pulled away. He reached over him, grabbing his pillow and folding it in half, before pulling Yuri’s hips up by the leg still looped over his shoulder. He shoved the pillow underneath him, and grabbed his other leg too. He folded back over him, Yuri’s thigh pressing against his stomach as he was kissed again, his other leg held up and out to the side by his partner.

“Now try,” Otabek murmured against his lips. With his hips pulled up a few inches, this time when Yuri curled his finger inside himself, he found what he was looking for. He moaned against his partner’s cheek when he felt it, fingers circling restlessly, thighs tensing and clenching as he moved. “Good?” Otabek asked, teeth plucking at his lips.

“So good,” Yuri confessed quietly, chin tipping up towards the ceiling.

“There,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down Yuri’s sides, lightly dewed with sweat. “Now you don’t even need me anymore.” Yuri growled under him, fingernails biting into his neck when he yanked him down into a desperate kiss. He was partly right, though. With the way his cock was pinned between their stomachs and his moving forearm, Yuri was pretty sure he could make himself come just like this. He didn’t want to, though. With his hips propped up and both legs in the air, Yuri was acutely aware of the way Otabek’s dick was leaking steadily against the underside of one of his thighs.

“I need you,” he said, and it wasn’t in answer to Otabek’s teasing comment. It was serious, it was a question. “I want you in me.” Otabek kissed him happily, and pushed a finger of his own in with Yuri’s. Yuri couldn’t have hidden the yelp and wince that caused, and Otabek apologized with slow drugging kisses and by pressing his finger tightly against Yuri’s, which had stilled as he body clenched down around them. “Fuck,” he bit out bitterly, and the pain of the stretch started to clear his mind, fizzling through the haze of drugs and wet skin. Otabek hushed him, pushing in father, until their wet knuckles touched and Yuri whimpered, burying his face in his partner’s shoulder, biting down hard enough on his lip to taste blood. He was more stretched than he’d ever tried for himself, and the pain was enough that he couldn’t convince his fingers to curl against his prostate, afraid of making it worse.

“It’s too much,” Otabek said for him. “You’re not ready.” And though he was relieved, he was also upset.

“No, please,” Yuri said, knees squeezing in around him, holding him close. “I want it.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Otabek said, pressing kisses to his cheeks, pink with frustrated arousal.

“I won’t ever be ready if you’re afraid to hurt me,” Yuri said, thinking about the pain he’d endured for skating, to make something beautiful. He wanted that with Otabek.

“We can do other things,” Otabek insisted, considerately petting through his hair with the hand that hadn’t been in his ass.

“I want it so bad,” he said, resorting to begging, pulling his own fingers out of his now sore hole to loop his hands around his neck. “I like your fingers so much, I want more.”

Otabek kissed him, releasing the one leg that was still held aloof and letting it wrap around him. He flattened himself down against his partner, Yuri’s knee nearly under his chin as he kissed him, thoroughly. When he pulled away, he thumbed over his lip, touching where Yuri had bit himself, the source of the blood he’d tasted in his mouth.

“Here, let me up, I have something you’ll like,” Otabek said, detangling himself to crawl up the bed. He knelt by Yuri’s head and leaned over to dig in the bottom drawer of the bedside table. Yuri rolled with him, unable to resist sliding his hands up the tan curve of his hip, reaching farther to dimple the skin of his plush ass with his fingertips. He saw his cock bob, untouched and so neglected, and Yuri wiggled closer until he could close his lips around it.

He held the head softly in his mouth, tongue curled around it. He sucked, lightly, hands still stroking over his hips, eyes wide and dark as he looked up at Otabek, who had halted his search for whatever it’d been he was looking for, and instead was just staring down at him. Yuri pushed his mouth down over him, letting him press hard into his cheek, and Otabek let a hand fall to cup that cheek, thumbing over the corner of his mouth that was stretched around him. Yuri loved the way he looked at him, open-mouthed and eyes dark, looking like he couldn’t believe he existed, like any moment Otabek thought he might wake up from this dream. He pulled off with a filthy pop.

“You also said you’d teach me to suck you right,” Yuri reminded him, feeling Otabek’s dick twitch against his lips where he held it.

“Yeah okay,” Otabek said easily. “Let’s do both.”

“Both?” Yuri asked, tongue snaking out of his mouth to flick over him lazily, exploratorily.

“Yeah, let’s play a game,” Otabek said, threading his fingers through his hair to hold him close against his dick while he looked back into the drawer.

“You sound like a horror movie,” Yuri commented absently, hand curling around the base of his dick and stroking teasingly.

“No, you’ll like it,” Otabek promised him. But when he pulled something that easily could’ve been a prop in a murder mystery out of the drawer, Yuri wasn’t so sure.

“What’s that?” he asked, looking at the curled piece of black silicon.

“It’s smaller than my dick, for one thing,” Otabek said, laughingly, pulling himself out of Yuri’s grip and scooting back down the bed. He pushed at Yuri’s hip until he rolled back onto his back and settled between his thighs again. “It’s a prostate massager,” he explained, dragging his hand through the lube that was beginning to grow tacky on Yuri’s stomach. He frowned and found the tube for more as he talked. “Do you still feel floaty?” he asked. “Like your skin is alive?” Yuri nodded, bit lip sucked into his mouth as he let his hands run in lazy patterns up and down his stomach. “This will make that even stronger,” Otabek promised with a grin. Yuri would not have been able to guess which end went in him until he slid the silicon through the lube poured into his palm, coating one side. “It’s one of my favorite things to do when I’m high.”

“Why? What does it do?” Yuri asked, still eyeing him warily.

“It vibrates,” Otabek grinned wickedly, touching the tip to his rim and turning it on. The moan the ripped out of Yuri’s throat was loud enough to send a new flurry of knocks against the wall, and he slapped his hand over his mouth as the vibrations made his whole body shake.

“Oh my god,” he squeaked behind his hand, eyes tightly shut, legs flung wide.

“Yeah,” Otabek said knowingly, evilly. He turned the vibration down, to just a subtly hum, and Yuri whined, wanting it back. Otabek just tutted at him and slowly eased it in. It sat heavily inside him, and Yuri was gasping by the time it was all the way in. It was not as thick as three fingers, but longer and hard, unforgiving when he clenched down around it. And it was humming in that quiet, endless rhythm that made Yuri’s eyelids flutter. He thought he’d never felt anything better. And then Otabek, with one hand brushing soothingly up and down the inside of thigh, twisted it, and a bump on the toy fit perfectly against his prostate and Yuri’s eyes rolled back, stomach flexing eagerly as he moaned.

“Wow,” he panted, when he acclimated to the hum enough to form words. Which, granted, took a few minutes, during which Otabek just gazed at him hungrily, happily, petting along his snow-pale skin.

“Yeah,” he said again, dipping down to press a kiss to his sternum.

“I don’t know how you expect me to suck your dick now,” Yuri murmured, rubbing his hands over his face. “I can barely feel my face.”

“If you do a good job, I’ll turn up the vibration,” Otabek promised, waggling a small black remote at him that he hadn’t notice before. Yuri’s heart picked up, already racing under his skin, and he scrambled up to seated with a smile on his face. He liked this game. Sitting up made the toy shift inside him, and he clenched around it unconsciously. He grabbed at Otabek with desperate hands, pulling him into an excited kiss.

“Fuck, yes,” he mumbled against his lips, his foot pulled under him, his heel pushing on the part of the toy that curled outside of him, feeling the rest of it shift.

“Grab the pillow,” Otabek said, before sliding off the bed. He stood next to it, and when Yuri handed him the pillow, he dropped it at his feet and pointed to it. Yuri looked down at it and then up at him, raising his brow.

“Excuse me?” he asked. Otabek rolled his eyes and chuckled good-naturedly.

“Trust me,” was all he said, and he was a man of little words, so it was a good thing that that’s all it took for Yuri to do as he asked. The moment he tried to step off the bed, he was secretly very grateful he’d be kneeling, because his legs were shaking with the same intensity the vibrator inside him was. He planted his knees on the pillow, the balls of his feet pressed to the cold floor, hands on Otabek’s thighs, scratching lightly through the dark hair curling over his skin. “Good boy,” Otabek murmured, cupping his bruised cheek, and Yuri’s face flushed darkly. He nipped at his thumb.

“I’m not a dog,” he groused, though he did like the praise.

“Of course not, kitten,’ Otabek said, and before Yuri could formulate a response, Otabek was pressing his cock against his lips. He opened easily, letting his retort go as he took him into his mouth. Otabek gripped himself around the middle of his length, and Yuri sunk down enough to let his lips caress his hand. That much was easy, and he began sucking him with enthusiasm, trying to push the endless buzzing inside him to the back of his mind and focusing instead on his tongue. He curled it against the vein under his dick and wrapped it around the barbell at the end in turns as his head bobbed.

“You’re doing so well,” Otabek said, petting over his hair, and Yuri purred around him, blinking up at him innocent. His boyfriend bit out a curse and slid his hand farther down his shaft. “Take a little more.” Yuri tried, hands coming up to grip around his hips as he took in the bigger mouthful. The head started nudging at his throat, and Yuri had to work to relax his shoulders. “Good,” Otabek murmured, and picked up the remote from the bedside table and pushed a button.

The vibration intensified, and Yuri moaned, one of his feet picking up from the floor as he twisted his hips restlessly. When he took Otabek’s dick in again, he gagged, the head pressing too hard against the back of his throat. He pulled back to gasp in a noisy breath. He glanced up at Otabek, to gauge his expression. He had a lip pinned between his teeth and a dark look in his eye.

“It’s okay, this is the tough part,” he said, taking a step closer so Yuri was forced to sit back on his heels. Otabek widened his stance to fit Yuri’s knees underneath him. “Weed helps with the gag reflex, I think,” Otabek commented idly, stroking his dick right over Yuri’s face.

“What gag reflex?” Yuri asked, just to be a shit. “You don’t even have one.”

“I have one,” Otabek said. “I just learned to control it. Like I’m about to teach you.” He tapped his dick against Yuri’s lips and he opened obediently. When he was halfway in, and Yuri had a tight suction around him, Otabek let go of his cock and dropped his hand to his throat. One hand on the back of his head, the other on the front of his throat, Otabek shuffled closer with tiny movements. He pulled back on Yuri’s hair and pushed up on his chin, tilting his head up, pushing his cock down. At this angle, with Yuri nearly underneath him, blinking up at him with doe eyes, his cock slid down into his mouth, nudging at his throat.

“So good, you look so good like this,” Otabek growled. He fumbled for the remote, not looking away from Yuri’s slow blinking eyes. Eyes that fluttered closed when Otabek increased the vibration. He groaned, squirming, and his throat loosened around the head of his cock. “Good, good,” Otabek coached. “Take a deep breath.” He did. “Breathe out slow, and relax.” Yuri did, fingernails biting into the skin of his hips as Otabek bent his knees carefully, sinking his cock further into his mouth, the channel of his throat lined up and open. Yuri felt the head push through the tight valve and tears sprung to his eyes, though it didn’t hurt. He didn’t gag, but he couldn’t focus on sucking or licking him. He fought hard to keep his eyes open and keep breathing, the hand stretched across the front of his throat and the vibration thrumming inside him helped.

He saw sweat beading on Otabek’s forehead, creased with pleasure, looking wrecked. His mouth was dropped open and his hand was clenched too tightly in Yuri’s hair. That helped him relax, relishing in the pinpricks of pain that washed over his scalp. And the hand wrapped around the front of his throat was still gentle, stroking down the pale, bruised column, feeling where the head of his cock was stretching him.

“Swallow?” Otabek asked, in a voice that was fucking destroyed, and knowing how much Otabek was coming undone by this made it a little easier to ignore the reflexive tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He swallowed, feeling his throat struggle to flex around the unyielding intrusion. He flinched at the strain and discomfort. “Fuck, yes, Құдай, yes,” Otabek groaned brokenly. “Do it again for me?” Yuri did, feeling a tear roll onto his cheek. He started to suck again, with the same pulsing rhythm of the tremors racing up his spine, tongue twitching against the underside of the cock splitting his jaw open. Otabek shuddered, and Yuri almost lost it in the vibrations already flooding his body.

He grabbed for the remote again, ratcheting up the toy at least two or three levels, Yuri couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he was mewling around his cock, squirming underneath him, heel pressing the toy tightly into his body, nails raking red lines down the soft skin of Otabek’s ass. Otabek growled harshly, hand in his hair yanking backwards hard enough that Yuri’s bottom teeth pressed against his length. He pushed in deeper, and Yuri’s wet eyes widened as he realized that he hadn’t taken it all. He pulled one hand around his hip to grab at his cock, trying to see how much more there was. There wasn’t so much left that he could wrap his fist around it, only two or three inches.

“Okay?” Otabek asked, hands shaking where they held his head in place. Yuri moaned in answer, eyes rolling back as he dropping his own hand to grip his dick, leaking a wet puddle against his thighs. “Good.” Otabek gentled his hand enough to pet over the back of his head before grabbing his hair again. “If it gets too much, just push on me.” Otabek pulled back, out his throat, and Yuri took a deep breath, sounding wet and messy to his own ears. “Can you breath okay?”

“Yes,” Yuri promised him, and he barely recognized himself, his voice dark and rough and wrecked. "Give it to me."

“Fuck,” Otabek growled, before pushing back into his throat. Yuri gagged, shoulders coming up, but he tried to adjust, letting go of his cock to grab onto his hips again, breathing out slowly and on his next thrust in, he relaxed. Sticking his tongue out and letting his jaw go helped, and Otabek sunk back into the harsh grip of his throat, swearing as he did, pushing deeper. He shoved in another inch or so, before Yuri desperately tapped at his hip, tears leaking out. He pulled back with a ragged apology but Yuri ignored it, sucking at him, swirling his tongue uncoordinatedly, tugging on his hips again. He pushed in again, and again Yuri gagged at first before letting him in. Otabek grabbed the remote and dropped it between his feet, grabbing Yuri roughly by the hair and the throat, fucking into his mouth.

Yuri scrambled blindly to find the small remote, moaning when his hand wrapped around it. He pushed a button and whined when the vibration slowed. He slid his thumb around until he found another one, and pushed that. The buzzing sped up, getting faster and stronger, and shaking heavy moans up out of his chest. Every time he moaned, Otabek did too, feeling it where they were connected. He pushed the button a few more times, until his eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw completely limp and his tongue a swollen dead thing in his mouth. He couldn’t think past the rumbling of the toy inside him, his heel nudging it when he needed it deeper, harder. He let Otabek use his mouth, still gagging too often, the sound wet and thick in the air, but his partner didn’t seem to mind.

“Құдай, you look so good,’ Otabek said, the praise sweet but his voice harsh and mean, gritted out through clenched teeth as he tried not to thrust too deeply into his open throat. His hands shook, feeling huge where they held the back of his head and the front of his throat, completely vulnerable in his grip. Yuri fought to open his eyes, fist flying in his lap, his other hand drawing blood where it held onto Otabek’s thrusting hip. “I’m gonna come, Yura, fuck, you look so good, you’re so good for me.” Yuri moaned, quieted by the dick pulsing in his mouth. Otabek squeezed over his throat, feeling his own cock jerk and shoot under his skin, and Yuri’s head filled with nothing but buzzing, white noise washing over him as he came with a choked scream. He crumpled against his partner’s shuddering thighs, gagging before his cock slipped from his swollen lips, his moans no longer muffled. Otabek dropped to the ground, knees cracking as he fell, dragging Yuri into a kiss he couldn’t reciprocate.

“Beka,” he gasped against his lips, hips twisting, legs jerking as the vibration continued, even after his orgasm was finished and his body felt wrung out. “Make it stop,” he mumbled, limp hands pawing at him uselessly. “Make it stop,” he begged, his teeth starting to chatter, his skin starting to crawl, his hole sore and oversensitive. It took Otabek a few torturous seconds of petting his hair to understand what he meant, but it took only a breath for him to flip him onto his back and carefully extract the toy. He dropped it on the pillow and looked around for the remote. He shut it off, gathered Yuri up in his arms and heaved them up onto the bed, where they collapsed again.

They breathed quietly together for long moments, Yuri wiping his chin on the sheet, wishing badly for lip balm but not willing to get up to get any. Otabek stroked hands that shook over his back, occasionally just squeezing him tightly.

“How is your throat?” he asked after a while.

“A little sore,” Yuri admitted in a voice that croaked.

“You did so well,” Otabek praised, pressing kisses into his hair.

“I still choked.”

“You don’t learn to deepthroat perfectly in one day.” Yuri snorted inelegantly, and then winced because it hurt his throat. “Did it hurt?” Otabek asked, running his hands down the hickied length of his neck.

“No,” Yuri said, but he leaned into Otabek’s hand when he swiped at the sticky tear tracks on his skin. “It was reflexive,” he said, a weak wrist indicating his red eyes. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Would you hate me if I said I liked seeing you like that?” Otabek asked, chest rumbling under Yuri’s cheek. He thought about it, the picture he must’ve made. Face tipped up worshipfully, lips stretched tight around his cock, eyes watering as he stared up at him like he was God.

“No, I get it,” he admitted raggedly, imagining Otabek like that for him. He thought about thumbing tears away from Otabek’s cheeks because the pleasure was that good. “I get it.”

“Did you like the toy?”

Yuri groaned, throwing his thigh over Otabek’s legs, feeling the sore openness of his hole.

“Shit, that was so good,” he drawled, teeth digging into his collarbone.

“Think you can handle getting yourself off when you go back to Russia?” Otabek asked. And the answer was yes, yes he definitely knew how to touch himself now, and yes he’d probably try to find one of those massagers for himself. But that’s not what he said.

“I don’t want to think about that,” he confessed, leaning his forehead against Otabek’s throbbing pulse. “I don’t want to go back. Not without you.”


	16. The Checklist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri heads back home to Russia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends! Don't panic, but there has been some restructuring to this fic! If you recall from when I first started this thing, I thought it was a oneshot. And I just kept adding chapters with only a loose idea of where it might be headed. Now that I have a better idea of how long this fucker is going to be, I have deleted the Side-Pairing Oneshots, and will repost them soon as parts of a series. I was loath to lose all of your lovely comments on those four chapters but I think that this is for the best. I might also end up putting some oneshots in the series if I think of some fun kinks I want to revisit after the "plot" of this fic is concluded. Lols, as if there's any plot at all, fuck me man. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this next installment of Olivia Makes Up Adverbs That Don't Actually Exist.

The next week was bliss.

Yuri’s muscles were sore, his throat was raw and he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

And he’d never been happier in his life.

Every morning he woke up next to his boyfriend and he couldn’t help but count down, trying to savor the sunrises they had left.

When Yuri had written down the name of the toy Otabek had used on him, Otabek had jokingly suggested he write down everything they did together in this week, and then start a checklist for everything he wanted to do the next time they saw each other. Yuri had rolled his eyes and told him that that was ridiculous, but he started doing it anyway.

And they got through quite the list of activities.

 

“Well, it’s pointless for you to have all this stuff if you never use them for anything fun,” Yuri said, arms crossed, surveying the display of sex toys spilled across the bed. After the first one Otabek used on him, he wanted to see what else he had to offer. And as it turned out, there was plenty more.

“I do use them for fun,” Otabek said, sitting on his side of the bed, playing Mila in Trivia Crack. “That’s literally their designed purpose.”

“But if you never leave your bedroom, you’re not allowing them to reach their full potential,” Yuri said coaxingly.

“You're a freak,” Otabek said kindly, dropping his phone and curling his arms back behind his head, watching Yuri with such an easy expression of love, it nearly made him blush.

“You’re supposed to be the exhibitionist, here,” Yuri said, looking down at the silicon in his hands.

“I’m telling you, it won’t be as exciting as you think.”

“But you’re going to let me do it anyway,” Yuri said with a wicked grin, and when Otabek rolled his eyes and smiled, he knew he was right.

Which brought the two of them to the metro, shifting in their seats, hands gripping each other tightly as every bump and vibration shifted the plugs they were wearing. Yuri buried his face in Otabek’s neck and gasped when they jolted to a stop.

“This was your idea,” Otabek said through gritted teeth, his neck flushed pink against Yuri’s damp forehead. He was relieved to finally make it to the stop the rink was at, though he couldn’t quite get the hang of walking normally. “Try _not_ looking like you have a princess plug shoved up your ass,” Otabek suggested, and Yuri scowled at the way his gait was nearly seamless, despite the fact that Yuri knew exactly how big the green silicon plug was that was holding him open. It made his mouth water that Otabek could have that in him and still carry off the same careless swagger.

“Stop calling it a princess plug,” Yuri groused, a hitch in his step as they made their way to Otabek’s home rink. “I just like pink, okay?”

“That’s what it’s called,” Otabek said, shrugging. “I don’t make up the names. A little silver plug with a jeweled end is a princess plug.”

“Well then why do you have one?” Yuri snapped back. Otabek grinned at him dangerously.

“Because sometimes I want to feel like a pretty princess,” he said, grabbing Yuri’s hand and reeling him in for a teasing kiss.

“Well, I’m not a princess,” Yuri gruffed, though his hackles were soothed by his partner’s sweet touch.

“Fine,” he said, walking ahead of him. “I’ll buy you one with a pretty, fluffy tail.” Yuri pretended his cock didn’t jerk in his jeans.

By the time they got to the rink, Yuri’s teeth were clenched at the uncomfortable ache between his legs. To take his mind off it, he slapped his boyfriend’s ass, relishing in the glare he tossed over his shoulder at him.

“Your idea,” he was reminded.

He sat down to strap his skates on, and leaning forward shifted it menacingly. His hands shook as he struggled with the laces.

He lasted for ten awkward laps before he made his slow way to the boards. Otabek followed him, laughing at the grimace on his face.

“You might have been right,” Yuri said. “This was not nearly as fun as I thought it would be.” Otabek just shook his head, graciously holding in the “told you so,” that he had definitely earned.

“Wanna go home?” he said, thumbing over his frowning cheek.

“Well, hold on, Hero of Kazakhstan,” Yuri said, grabbing him by the sides of his leather jacket and pulling him close. “Doesn’t royalty get a private dressing room around here?” Otabek rolled his eyes but grabbed his hand and started leading the way.

They scrambled out of their skates, speed hampered by the awkward shape still sitting in Yuri’s body. Once they were back in their shoes, Otabek drug him down a hallway, past the locker rooms and the rental room. They reached a nondescript door and Otabek shoved him inside, pulling it shut behind them.

“Nice,” Yuri commented, looking around the storage closet and admiring the mops and cleaning chemicals.

“Shut up,” Otabek said, mouth on his neck, arms wrapping around him from behind, already pulling at his zipper and hiking up his shirt. “It locks, that’s all I need to get you off.”

“Fair enough,” he gasped.

Perhaps skating with plugs had been a bad idea, but Yuri was a big fan of the way he could slip three fingers right into Otabek, his tshirt and leather jacket hiked up his back, his skin-tight jeans shoved to the ankle, ass pushing back at him as he braced himself against a dirty door. Yeah, a big fan.

And the way Otabek had knelt on the ground, knees planted on Yuri’s toes to keep them from getting dirty, and looked up at him when he held the sides of his face and fucked his mouth. He watched his face the whole time, blinking like it was easy, hands loose on his thighs until one snuck in to pop his plug out. Yuri came immediately, shooting deep enough in his throat that Otabek complained he didn’t get to taste any.

 

 

Yuri found the present in the backpack.

Otabek was making dinner, singing softly in the kitchen, when the pink leather caught his eye as he left the bathroom and Leena and Ksenia’s laughter rang in his memory. Curiosity won out and Yuri dumped the bag out onto the mused sheets of the bed. His lip-gloss fell from the pocket and thumped down against the pile of cloth that tumbled free.

Yuri blinked down at the black lace splayed out in front of him. He wasn’t surprised by the blush pink top or the sequin skirt, but the black, lacy lingerie was unexpected.

“Um,” he said to himself, picking it up by the straps and holding it up in front of him. He didn’t know anything about sizing, but it looked like maybe it would fit around his ribs. The material felt rich and slippery between his fingers and he hummed thoughtfully, stroking it. The lace didn’t seem like it’d be itchy. The simple razorback straps didn’t look too complicated. It felt… decedent? And a little expensive in his hands. He turned it around until he found a tag.

Over the price, in hastily scrawled handwriting, were the words, “Call him Daddy,” and a black ink heart.

It took Yuri the whole time struggling into the outfit to decide if he was going to do it or not. He thought it was maybe a little weird, because Otabek was only two years older than him, and at least 10 centimeters shorter. But, Yuri reasoned, the only reason the girl had gotten him this outfit to begin with was because Otabek would like it, so why not complete the fantasy?

The spaghetti straps of the gauzy blouse did nothing to hide the thick black lines of the bra underneath. It did not fit his ribs _at all_ , it was ridiculously tight, but Yuri was relieved that it stretched flat over his chest. He didn’t mind wearing it, but he would’ve been annoyed and put off if it was padded. The silver miniskirt was loose on his hips but tight around his waist, hiding the truly uncomfortable part underneath. The panties were clearly not meant for humans with testicles, and Yuri kept reaching under the skirt to adjust himself awkwardly as the cheeky panties rode up his ass.

Nonetheless, it was completely worth it when Yuri sauntered out of the bedroom. Otabek dropped the bowl he was carrying towards the table and salad littered the floor. Otabek didn’t even try to step over it when he stalked his way over to him. He didn’t say a word, seemed incapable of it, as he ran his hands up Yuri’s bare arms, fingering the lacy straps wrapping over his collarbones.

Yuri stayed silent, too, the word “Daddy,” stuck in his throat, embarrassment holding it down. He didn’t need to say anything, it seemed, as Otabek was already pulling the blouse over his head, blond waves tumbling down to tickle his bare back. Otabek ran the flat of his palm over Yuri’s lace covered chest, the triangles of lace rubbing over his nipples as Otabek traced their shape.

Without warning, Otabek grabbed his hips and spun him around. Yuri felt hard hands yank the skirt up over his ass and the sequins along the front hem dug into his skin. His protest was lost, however, when Otabek fell to his knees and buried his face in his ass. His hands smoothed up over the lace-covered cheeks, his mouth hot and open against his hole and his taint and his squished balls. The skirt was bunched up over his hips and Yuri’s knees went weak when Otabek hooked a thumb around the center of his panties, yanking it to one side so he could lick at his hole.

“Fuck, Otabek, yes,” Yuri moaned, fisting his hand back in his hair, forgetting what he was supposed to be calling him in the rush of pleasure.

“Get down here,” Otabek panted, tugging on his hips. “Sit on my face.” Yuri could hardly turn down an offer like that, but he was still surprised when Otabek laid down right there, on the floor in the middle of his open-plan studio apartment. Otabek grabbed his skirt in one hand and yanked him down, and that was all the convincing he needed. He knelt over his head, still facing away from him, and moaned when Otabek’s thick arms wrapped around his waist to pull him down.

His mouth was hot and insistent over his hole, and Yuri had barely gotten a chance to be proud of his effect on his boyfriend before his brain was fried and he was rocking down against his face, riding his tongue and squeezing his own cock through the lace. He noticed that Otabek was plumping up in his jeans, and Yuri reached forward with shaky hands to unzip him. The angle brought his ass up off of Otabek’s face, which he growled about, and as soon as he was unzipped and free to thicken up against his stomach, Yuri was begin yanked back down into position. Otabek licked him out like he was what was for dinner, his hands restlessly tracing over the black lace.

Yuri came with his hand jammed inside the panties, splattering the soft fabric and trembling around his partner’s tongue. The second he was finished shuddering through the aftershocks, Otabek was surging up underneath him, the arms around his waist lifting him up and dropping him forward onto his face. Yuri squawked, barely having enough time to get his uncoordinated arms up to prevent his face from smashing into Otabek’s knees. Otabek pulled himself up to seated and drew his legs out from underneath Yuri’s panting form. He planted a firm hand on Yuri’s lace-crossed back and pressed him to the floor, coming to kneel behind him. With a rough hand, he grabbed his hip and tugged to make sure his ass stayed up, grinding against him. Yuri let himself be moved, content to gasp into the floorboards as Otabek grabbed at him with gruff, desperate hands. He smiled, smugly, to himself, for having driven his partner to such extremes with just a single outfit.

He heard Otabek stroking himself behind him, caressing his ass, his hips, his back with the other hand, tracing wherever lace met skin. He wriggled his ass, gasping when it earned him a playful snap of the elastic straps crossing over his back. He wished he’d put the plug back it, uncomfortable as it had been, just for the purpose of driving Otabek even crazier.

“Want me to come on your pretty panties?” Otabek asked in a voice that sounded like a thunderstorm, and that’s when Yuri remembered. He bit his lip and looked over his shoulder.

“Yeah, Daddy.”

Otabek came with a punched-out sounding groan, so hard it hit Yuri’s pink cheek. It streaked over black lace and the sequined skirt shoved up around his waist, ruining both. It got in his hair and Otabek had to spend his shaky, post-orgasmic bliss wiping it out with a paper towel.

It was only after, when Yuri was showered and they were eating cold chicken at the table that Otabek looked at him sheepishly.

“Who told you?”

“What’s the thefty girl’s name?” Yuri asked, smirking at him. “She left me a note on a tag.”

“Mm,” was all Otabek said, though his ears were bright pink.

“You really, really liked it,” Yuri observed, still kind of blown away by the intensity of his reaction. “I mean, I probably could’ve guessed. You’re always telling me you’ll take care of me, teaching me things. Cuddling me after you fuck my brains out and then making me snacks. It makes sense.”

“It’s not that serious,” Otabek huffed, pushing cold vegetables around on his plate.

“You came so hard it got in my hair,” Yuri remarked dryly. Otabek ducked his head again.

“I liked _all_ of it, a lot,” he admitted, shaking his head, as if surprised at his behavior. “Leena told me I’d lose my mind. I didn’t think she’d be right. The, uh, daddy thing, just made it better.”

“Uh huh,” Yuri said, watching him carefully over the rim of his wineglass.

“Did, uh, you like it?” Otabek asked, and Yuri was relishing in _not_ being the one blushing and stammering for once. He picked at his nails, leaning back casually.

“The bra thingy hurt, the sequins scratched my legs up, and I felt like a total girl with my balls all smushed up,” he said. “But,” he said, when Otabek’s cheeks just got redder and his bashful expression darkened with the beginnings of genuine shame. “But,” he said, ducking his head to force eye contact. “I did look pretty fucking incredible. And I loved making you so crazy you couldn’t even speak. I loved sitting on your face and the way you ate me out. And I loved the look on your face when I called you… that,” he finished lamely, loosing confidence at the end.

“Did it do anything for you?” Otabek asked, fiddling with his fork, looking oddly guilty for someone who’s first instinct when unspeakably aroused was so give pleasure until he couldn’t breathe.

“The daddy thing?” Yuri said, priding himself for not stuttering at all. “Not really. But I was nervous about it, too.” He shrugged. “I liked how rough you were. And I liked how it made you look at me. So, like, it’s not something I’ll do or think of to get myself off, but I want you to keep touching me like that, so I want do it again. Maybe get more into it, make it a whole roleplay thing.” His cheeks were flaming red by the time he was finished.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Otabek said scratching his neck in an uncharacteristic show of nerves.

“You know I won’t,” Yuri said, reaching across the table with an open hand. Otabek sheepishly grabbed his offered hand, squeezing tightly. “Besides,” Yuri said, smirking at him. “I plan on using that little trick to my full advantage.” Otabek dropped his hand and threw a lettuce leaf at him, a mock scowl tucked in the corners of his lips.

 

 

A few days later, Yuri had Otabek tied to his own bedframe, ruthlessly running a vibrating wand along all of the sensitive places he’d mapped out.

The day after that, Otabek took a turn binding him, and went to work methodically sucking his soul out of his cock. He tried to get Yuri to five orgasms in an hour, but after three Yuri had to safeword out. So oversensitive and overwhelmed, Otabek had to quickly untie him and draw them a bath, running warm hands all along Yuri’s arms and chest until he calmed down. He didn’t think his body could do the same things Otabek’s did, couldn’t recover fast enough for that. Their first day together had wrung so many orgasms out of him, but it had been over enough time that he hadn’t felt like his skin was trying to crawl away from him. Still, relaxing with his partner in warm, lavender-scented bubbles made the whole experiment worth it.

 

And then there were the sweet things, the things that didn’t require lube, or toys, or nakedness.

Like Otabek and all of his friends laughing at him when he coughed and hacked his way through his first cigarette. And the way Leena taught Yuri to cover his bruises with makeup so he would be presentable at Otabek’s house.

He met the whole family, a few of which he’d met before, but never all of them all at once. His grandmother held his hand the whole time she spoke slowly to him, watching him carefully in that unnerving way old women have. His littlest sisters and cousins latched onto his legs and nearly took him down with all their begging for rides. Otabek’s third oldest sister, at a surly thirteen, pretended she didn’t want anything to do with him, even though he noticed her hanging on Otabek’s every word.

Otabek’s oldest cousin, just a year younger than him, making her a year older than Yuri, she was the scariest. Otabek’s parents adored him; an older couple who loved kids, they welcomed him easily. But Aruzhan eyed him critically, seemingly judging everything that left his mouth. About an hour after arriving at their home, just a few minutes before dinner, she grabbed him by the wrist and drug him into the bathroom, fast enough that Otabek didn’t even get the chance to turn around.

“Is this where you threaten to kill me if I ever hurt Otabek?” Yuri asked, leaning back against the sink. Aruzhan rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You’re helplessly obsessed with him. You look at him like the sun shines out of his ass.” Yuri blushed, crossing his arms defensively. She made it sound so lame.

“Then why drag me in here?”

“You missed a spot,” she said with a smirk, gesturing towards the mirror. Where his collar had shifted during the eighth piggyback ride, a dark red bruise stood out boldly on his pale skin. He groaned and covered his blushing face while Aruzhan laughed.

Though she mocked him for it, she helped him cover it. Her concealer was about six shades darker than his skin was, though, so they ended up having to do his whole shoulder and neck, to blend it as much as possible. They were cackling by the time they stumbled out of the bathroom, Aruzhan giggling about how he owed her a new bottle.

Otabek welcomed him back under his arm with a wide smile, eyes going between him and his closest cousin. Yuri just shook his head and grinned in a silent ‘I’ll tell you later’ look. Otabek shrugged and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Dinner was delicious. Otabek’s parents smiled at Yuri so much he was surprised they found time to eat. They seemed absolutely charmed, which no one could ever say about Yuri ever before or probably ever again. But he was on his best behavior, the prickle of anxiety at the back of his neck encouraging him to make a good impression. By the time dessert was over, Yuri was exhausted from being polite and kind for so long. Otabek could tell, teasing him on the way to where he’d parked his bike.

“How much did it hurt to hold in every sarcastic comment that drifted through your head?” He knocked his hips into him, causing him to stumble as he laughed.

“Shut up,” he said, his face a little sore from smiling all night.

“I’m really proud of you, you didn’t snarl at or bite anyone.” Otabek laughed, grabbing his hand. “This must be a new record.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Yuri declared grandly. Otabek just swung him around and leaned him back against his bike, stepping in between his legs.

“I am,” he whispered into the still night air. Yuri expected him to duck in for a swift kiss, letting the action clear away the soft words from between them, but he didn’t. He held Yuri’s cheek, and stared at him steadily and certainly. Yuri’ blushed a little, reflexively looking away from the intensity of emotion, before staring back, a small, self-conscious smile on his face. Otabek’s kind smile softened even further, and _then_ he leaned forward to bestow upon him the long awaited kiss. Yuri hummed into it, content with a medium he felt reasonably able to communicate with.

 

And now, Yuri was sitting in a plane, ready for take off, frantically scribbling into a journal he’d bought in the airport. He made a checklist, starting with all the things they’d done together in the last few days, and then extending out to all the things he was already thinking about for the next time they were together.

Saying goodbye was hard. Yuri had gotten so spoiled, waking up to his kiss every day, being able to reach out whenever he wanted to, having dinner and adventure and sweetness at every turn. And then to cling to him in the airport, before security, desperately trying to stretch the next ten minutes into a lifetime so that Yuri would never have to leave.

“It’s okay,” Otabek had soothed him, hands rubbing over his back. “It’ll be just like before, we’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to go back to before,” Yuri confessed against the side of his head. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Your life is waiting for you in Russia.”

“That doesn’t matter all the much when I’m on my back in your bed,” Yuri groused, but he knew his partner was right. That didn’t mean it was easy. Knowing that Grandpa, and Viktor, and Potya, and the _ice_ where all waiting for him in Russia didn’t make it easier for him to pull his fingers out of the cool leather of Otabek’s jacket. He shoved his nose into his partner’s hair, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He savored the way Otabek chuckled against him.

“I’m worried you’re only going to miss my mouth,” he joked, his hands falling to his hips, thumbs pressing into where mirror image bruises dotted each hipbone.

“Your mouth is a solid thirty percent,” Yuri admitted, pushing into his hands. His arms wrapped around Otabek’s shoulders, pressing him close against his chest, head hooking around so his nose was nudging at the head of the eagle poking out of his collar.

“Only thirty, I’m flattered,” Otabek rumbled, his voice quiet, serious.

“I’m going to miss everything about you,” Yuri whispered.

“I’ll still be here,” Otabek assured him. “Right on the other side of your phone. If you can dial, you’ve got me.” He pressed a kiss to his collarbone, where his face was tucked against him.

“We need to visit each other more,” Yuri said resolutely. “Once every three months isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

“Insatiable,” Otabek murmured, arms squeezing around his waist in agreement. “Alright, we’ll talk to our coaches.”

“Okay,” Yuri said, knowing the conversation was over but wanting a reason not to let go yet.

“You need to go, Yura,” Otabek said, though he didn’t make a move to let go off him.

“I know.” He sniffed, clinging tighter, trying to suck as much of Otabek in as he could.

“I love you,” Otabek said, when Yuri eventually detangled himself, painstakingly taking the first step back towards Russia.

“I love you, too,” he said, wiping his face and then pretending that he hadn’t.

“Call me when you land?” Otabek asked, as if that wasn’t the first thing Yuri would do.

“I love you,” Yuri said again, in answer, wanting that to be the last thing Otabek heard from him in person. Otabek stepped back into his space to press a final kiss to his lips, light and gentle and tender. They pulled away, and Yuri walked backwards towards security until he started bumping into people.

Then he waved, turned around, and headed home.

 

He looked down at his journal during the flight.

The first thing on his To Do list, so to speak, underlined three times and circled, taking up two lines, were the words **_GET FUCKED_**.

He’d begged for it the night before. He’d clung to Otabek with arms and legs, whispering filth into his ear, begging to be filled, scratching at his back, telling him how hungry he was for it, how much he wanted it, how empty he felt without it. He sunk his own fingers into himself, wet with lube up to the wrist. Over the last few days they’d had together, Otabek had put an array of increasingly interesting toys in his ass, enough that he could take three of his own fingers with ease now.

He held in his gasp of pain when Otabek pulled his fingers out and replaced them with three of his own, thicker and longer. He could suffer a little discomfort for the sake of Otabek’s dick. If he could take three fingers with minimal pain, surely he could take the rest. But then the tip of Otabek’s pinky pushed inside and Yuri couldn’t help but flinch away from the sharp pain, like he was on the edge of tearing.

Otabek didn’t pull away. Yuri could feel his breath puffing over his neck, his body quivering with held back passion. Yuri realized that he’d done it, he’d teased him enough, he’d begged enough, and that if Yuri said it was okay, Otabek would fuck him open, even if it made him cry. Yuri considered it. It hurt, it hurt already and barely the tip of his pinky inside. But he’d _begged_ for it. He’d promised he could take it. He’d driven Otabek so far out of his mind that he probably wouldn’t even care if Yuri enjoyed it until after. He’d begged, and Beka was finally relenting. He had to at least try.

“Can you, uh,” Yuri panted, trying to keep the pain out of his voice, “give me a little more?” Otabek moaned, sinking his teeth into his shoulder and pressing his fingers in up to the second knuckle.

No amount of willpower could have kept Yuri from scrambling away. A bitten, wounded sound pushed out of his lips, and instinct had him hooking his heel in Otabek’s elbow and shoving him away, crawling up the bed to sit against the pillows. Otabek blinked at him dazedly for a second before his face colored with guilt and hurt. Yuri pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arm around them, avoiding eye contact.

“Yura, kitten, I’m sorry,” Otabek said, putting his lube wet hand on his foot, his thumb brushing over the arch.

“That hurt,” Yuri said, an explanation that wasn’t necessary.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve known you couldn’t take more,” Otabek dropped his head into his dry hand, pulling his legs under him to sit cross-legged and hunched in on himself.

“I told you I could,” Yuri said, trying to be soothing but his heart was still beating a little too fast to really be convincing.

“I should’ve known you weren’t ready,” Otabek grumbled, rubbing his hand back through his hair. Yuri could see his cock going soft between his legs. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Yuri said, playing with the edge of a pillowcase with his fingertips. “I asked you to.”

“Are you okay?” Otabek asked, reaching for Yuri again. This time Yuri leaned forward, scooting into the circle of his arms, letting himself be comforted.

“Yeah,” he said, though he could still feel the sting radiating up through his spine. “You were right, I’m not ready,” he admitted, lip pulled between his teeth.

“That’s fine,” Otabek said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s only been a week.”

“If we had longer, I’d be able to take it, right?” Yuri asked, worming his arms around his waist.

“Yeah, you’re nearly there. It’s a muscle, it just needs to be stretched like any other muscle. If we had another week together, you’d be able to take it just fine,” Otabek assured him. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you,” he murmured into his hair. “But if it makes you feel any better, I really like it when you fuck me.”

“I know you do,” Yuri said with an inelegant snort. “But I want that, too. When you fuck my thighs, I can just imagine what it would feel like, the real thing.”

“Soon, baby, soon,” Otabek nuzzled into his neck. “Now, do you still want to get off, or do you want to go to sleep?”

“Can we just cuddle for a little before I decide?” Yuri asked, inching down to lie out across the bed again. Otabek hummed and went with him easily.

“Whatever you want, kitten,” he sighed, and Yuri knew how lucky he was to have a partner like him.

 

Yuri landed in St Petersburg and scowled at the obnoxiously large banner Viktor and an embarrassed looking Katsuki were holding up for him. He was not at all charmed and not at all happy to be back. He let Viktor reel him into a tight hug, and when Katsu carefully extracted him enough so he could breathe, Yuri didn’t hug him back at all. And if he did and Katsuki tried to tell anyone about it, no one would believe him.

They hit him with a barrage of questions on the ride home. Most of Katsuki’s were tame and about Almaty and Otabek’s family, friends, and rink. Most of Viktor’s were about his dick or his ass or his mouth. Yuri was flushed and flustered by the time he could finally leap out of the car and sprint up the stairs to the apartment. He left filthy-minded Viktor behind to deal with his suitcase.

He called Otabek as soon as he was in his room to complain about how nosy the old man was being. Otabek hummed and commiserated in all the right places and soon Yuri was less angry again.

“Have you unpacked?” Otabek asked.

“Not yet,” Yuri said, kicking at his suitcase. Viktor had brought it up for him, complaining about how heavy it was, but winking when he saw Yuri was already on the phone with his boyfriend again. Yuri flipped him an obscene hand gesture and the older man left laughing.

“Open your suitcase,” Otabek said mysteriously. “I put a last minute birthday present in there.”

“I told you, the trip was enough, you weren’t supposed to get me anything else,” Yuri groused, but he loved presents and was already eagerly unzipping the luggage.

“Trust me,” his partner huffed, “this is just as much of a present for me as it is for you.”

“What does that mean?” he’d asked. But then he’d found it. It wasn’t wrapped, still in the box it had been sold in but tied with a bright pink ribbon. “Oh my fucking god, Otabek, you didn’t,” he breathed, nearly dropping his phone as he stared at the toy in amazement. “You got me a giant dildo?”

“Keep looking, there’s more,” Otabek said, not sounding at all embarrassed of abashed. He sounded pleased, like he’d done a good job in providing for his partner. Yuri gently set the heavy dildo on the ground and kept searching through his clothes. The next box was bigger, and when he hesitantly flipped it over, his jaw dropped. “Beka, what the fuck is an ‘Anal Training Kit’?”

“It’s a series of toys, each one a little bigger than the last, to help you get ready for the dildo,” he said, having the audacity to sound calm and collected. “The dildo is a little smaller than me, because I didn’t want to overwhelm you when you’re by yourself. We can always get you a bigger one if you get comfortable with this one. There should also be a pump bottle of the lube you liked somewhere in there.”

“Oh, I found it,” Yuri said, pulling out a tshirt that was covered in the stuff. “It might have exploded a little.”

Otabek had the nerve to laugh at him through the line, and it made the ache in his chest ache just a little less.

“You can practice with this stuff and next time we see each other, maybe we’ll be closer.”

“Yeah,” Yuri breathed. “I miss you already.”

“I miss you too,” Otabek murmured over the line. “My apartment is so empty now. I think I’ll probably invite my sisters over to stay for a while.”

“Yeah, that would be good,” Yuri said distractedly, reading the label on the kit.

“You’re probably tired,” Otabek said to him, gently. “Go to sleep, kitten, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I love you,” Yuri said easily, flipping the box over in his hands. Otabek said it back and they hung up. Yuri dropped his phone and started opening his presents. He was already planning on getting in the shower, cleaning up, and then maybe playing around with the littlest toy. When he next saw Otabek, he wanted to be ready.


	17. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri has a lot of training to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I'd let you go a whole month without an update, did you? You actually might have, because wow was I cutting it close.

Yuri was sweating, hands on his knees, his hair stuck to his face, panting. His whole body felt like it was lit up from the inside out. He gritted his teeth and tried to relax muscles that kept clenching and quivering without his permission. He blew out a concentrated exhale and focused harder.

“Come on, I know you can do it.” Yuri didn’t find it as comforting as he thought he was supposed to.

“I can take it,” he bit back harshly, refusing to turn around.

“A little more, tiger, come on,” he was teased, and Yuri bit his lip.

“You think I’m not trying?” he snapped accusingly, straightening his spine, jaw clenched as little fissures of pain shot up his back. He knew he’d be so sore tomorrow.

“Give me one more good one,” he was told. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the pain. He could take a little more. His body would heal, it always did. He was a Grand Prix champion. He could take it.

He flexed his thighs, worked his sore muscles, picked up speed and then lifted off.

“Perfect!” Viktor called, as Yuri landed the quad. “Your stamina is increasing. Every jump today was higher than the last.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Yuri said, bent at the waist again, letting sweat drip down to the ice as he tried to massage the soreness out of his aching thighs.

“Tired?” Viktor asked, eyes closed in a stupid smile that told Yuri that he knew exactly how much pain he was in.

“I’m dead inside,” Yuri growled, trying to look dignified as he limped off the ice.

“Good,” Viktor said cheerfully, throwing his arm around his shoulder as soon as his guards were on. It took all of Yuri’s last energy reserves to fling it off, scowling. “You were gone too long, you couldn’t have thought I’d take it easy on you.”

“It’s been three weeks of hell,” Yuri groaned. He didn’t know how much longer he could take this. He’d thought Lilia was bad, but Viktor? Viktor was a madman. He’d happily sell his soul to the ballerina again to escape this ice clown. Plus, it was much easier to complain to Viktor than to Lilia.

“And you were gone for, what, nine days?” Viktor asked, as if he didn’t have the days he was gone crossed off on the calendar in the kitchen with massive frowny faces. “That means you’ve still got two more weeks of make up training to do.”

“Where do you even come up with that math?” Yuri grumbled, but he knew by now complaining wouldn’t actually get him anywhere. It did make him feel better though.

“Don’t question your coach, Yurio.” Viktor said, and Yuri let him swing his heavy gym bag up onto his shoulder without a fight. Yuri wasn’t even sure his legs would carry his own weight home. “Lucky for you Yuuri was out and is waiting outside to drive us home.”

“Oh, thank God,” Yuri sighed.

“What was that?”

“Oh, I was just praying for safety. Because your husband drives like a blind person with anxiety.”

“Well, if you took his glasses away, that’s basically what you’ve got,” Viktor mused, tapping an over-glossed lip as they walked out into the briskly cold air.

Despite his complaining, Yuri collapsed gratefully into the back seat, sprawling out across the bench.

“Put your seat belt on, Yurio,” Katsudon admonished. Yuri freed one of his bloodied feet from his sneaker and threw the shoe at the back of his head. “Watch it,” Katsu said threatening, after flinching and squealing a little. “Do that again and I’m letting Viktor eat all of your samosas. And I’ll make you sit there and watch it happen.”

Yuri groaned, as though dying, but secretly his mouth was watering as he noticed the spicy warm aroma filling up the cabin of the car.

“You picked up dinner!” Viktor exclaimed, sounding just as grateful and proud as if he’d planted the ingredients, slaughtered the animals and prepared it all from scratch. “You’re such a good provider for your family, Y _uu_ ri,” he cooed, and Yuri hated the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables of his name. Of _his_ name.

“Just get me home so I can die in peace,” he said from underneath his sweatshirt sleeve, arm thrown over his face.

“Okay,” Kastudon said cheerfully. “I promise I won’t let Puma eat your body.”

“He would never,” Yuri said on principle, though, actually he thought that maybe he would.

 

When they got home, Yuri ate on the living room floor, fighting Makka off as he stretched his sore muscles. The thought of sitting in one of the harsh wooden dining chairs absolutely abhorrent, so he put his plate on the ground and tried not to whimper as he stretched and flexed his tired legs. When he’d eaten enough to fill the gaping maw that always seemed to be inside him now, he heaved himself up, barked at the happy couple hand feeding each other in the kitchen that he would be in the bathtub and they better not need him for the rest of the night. Katsuki tried to respond, and all it got him was green sauce smeared over his cheek. Yuri slammed the door in their faces.

For all that Viktor was infuriatingly over the top and extravagant, in this one particular case, it worked to Yuri’s benefit. Because in this excessively large and overly expensive penthouse apartment, Yuri’s room had it’s own bathroom. Which he planned on taking full advantage of for the next several hours.

First he showered, actually taking the time to wash the sweat out of his hair, work in some conditioner and tie the wet mess into a bun at the top of his head. Then he filled the tub, dropped in one of the bath bombs Otabek rolled his eyes at, and sank into the foaming green waters. He sighed, leaning his head back onto the little spa pillow Mari gave him from the springs, and let the tension in his muscles bleed away. He’d need his strength later. He had plans.

It’d been a long three weeks without Otabek. And though his body was sore, and he couldn’t afford to put himself at a disadvantage during training with Viktor, that didn’t mean he wasn’t doing some training of his own.

The first toy had been easy. He hadn’t even been sore the next day. The second one was big enough that the soreness threw off his next day of sit spins, but wasn’t too much to keep him from using it again that night. By the fifth night of that one, he could take it easily, without wincing through practice. The third one was hard. It was easily as big around at the base as Otabek’s three fingers had been. It always left him sore for days, taking him longer and longer to get used to it. He’d been in so much pain on the ice the first day after using it that he’d had to blame his winces and flinches on blisters and bruises, lest Viktor get too curious.

He’d been working with that biggest plug for two weeks now. It didn’t hurt anymore, and at this point, he preferred coming with it inside him. It made it last longer, made it more intense. Almost as good as it had been in Otabek’s bed. Or his shower, or kitchen, or his rink, or that one memorable time in his friend’s coat closet.

Fuck, he missed his boyfriend so much. The plugs were never as good as fingers for hitting his prostate, and it took so much maneuvering to get himself in the right position for him to do it himself. He still got himself off the usual way, a hand wrapped around himself, the other pressing his knuckles into his teeth to keep the noise down. But he had dreams of Otabek’s hands. Of his fingers inside him. Of the way he felt pressed along his back all the times he’d fucked his thighs, breath ragged in his ear. He wanted more.

And tonight was the night. Though he was tired, exhausted even, he’d been waiting for this all day, had told himself last night that today would be the day. He wasn’t going to let some sore quads and hamstrings get the better of him. He found that opening himself up, taking a toy inside him and feeling his muscles clench around it was actually very calming. Almost therapeutic. It gave his mind and body something to focus on, something that was just for pleasure and just for him.

He climbed out of the bath and toweled himself dry. He drained the colored and glittery water and wandered into his bedroom, his damp skin prickling in the cool air. He grabbed he box from under his bed, the one that he absolutely refused to call his Toy Box, even in his head. He might occasionally call his boyfriend Daddy during phone sex, but he was still an adult and didn’t have anything as childish sounding as a toy box.

The dildo was soft in his hand, squishier than he would’ve thought, and he squeezed and waggled it around as he scrolled on his phone, looking for something to watch. His porn searches had improved since his first-hand experience in sex. Now that he knew what sort of things he liked, he had a better ability to find porn that he liked. He liked boys with dark hair and tattoos, boys that could take it as well as they could give it. Boys that looked like Otabek.

He chose one and watched the intro while he washed the toy carefully in the sink, the way Otabek had told him to. The men were talking, chatting with the off-screen director, arms slung causally across each other before they began making out. Yuri turned on the water in the tub to cover the noise of the video. The toy had a wide suction cup on the base and after a moment of hesitation, he stuck it to the side of the tub and knelt on the bathmat. He pumped a handful of lube out and covered all the fingers of his dominant hand. By the time he was sliding fingers into himself, the men on the screen were sucking each other off. He was quick with his prep, taking two easily, a third after a few minutes. He bit his lip when he pressed against his rim with the fourth. Kneeling on the floor didn’t give him the angle he needed to make it feel good. He couldn’t twist his wrist right, so he didn’t linger.

When he thought he was ready, he inched back, laughing at the little at the way the purple silicon poked against his thigh. He took another pump of lube and stroked it over the toy. He planted one hand on the bathroom floor in front of him and set his phone on the ground in front of him where he could see it. He grabbed the toy behind himself and pressed the head against his hole. He rewound the video to the point where the top first enters him and he thought of Otabek.

When the toy first pushed in, it felt so much different than fingers. Solid and bulky, it opened him up immediately, and he gasped louder than the boy on his screen. He pushed back too fast and was left panting and shaking, only halfway down. He watched as the man on the screen adjusted seemingly instantly, immediately taking hard, long thrusts, knees pushed under his shoulders, asking for more. Yuri clenched around the few inches splaying him open, already far deeper than his own fingers had ever gotten, and thicker than Otabek’s had ever been. It hurt, and he had to consciously order his muscles to relax around the intrusion. He rocked forward on his hands and knees, and whimpered at the way his body clung to the toy as it slid slowly out.

He pushed back, taking it in again, letting his head hang between his shoulders, repeating it again and again, feeling himself opening, stretching, relaxing bit by tiny bit. The men on the screen changed positions, the top roughly flipping the bottom over onto his stomach, the bottom looking over his shoulder with an teasing, carefree grin while he shook his ass enticingly. Yuri was sweaty and shaking, wondering how anyone could make taking a dick up the ass look so easy.

Reaching back, he felt the half of the toy still between him and the tub where it was stuck. With a shaky hand he got another pump of lube and slicked the rest of the dildo again. The bottom on the screen was pulled up onto his hands and knees, just like Yuri was, and Yuri watched with an open mouth, fucking himself back on the purple cock at the same pace as the man in the video. As he relaxed, as he got more into the video, as he brought one hand to himself and started stroking, he realized he was moving more and more. He was taking more and more, and when he pushed back strongly, he felt the cool tile of the tub against his flushed skin.

“Fuck,” he gasped to himself, straightening his spine, pushing down on the cock inside himself. Fuck, he did it. And it felt so _good._

The bottom in the video had risen up from getting fucked into the pillows and was shoving his partner backwards and straddling him. He sunk down on his cock and his head fell back, a porn smile on his face. He thought about Otabek holding him down, fucking himself on his cock, using him like a toy, and he _wanted that._

He reached back and pulled the toy off the wall, whimpering as the motion shoved it further inside himself, the purple balls spreading his cheeks apart. He whined, holding it inside him with one hand as he shuffled awkwardly off the bathmat, sitting down to stick it to the tile floor. He held the suction up down for the first couple thrusts, his thighs adjusting to the feeling of pulling himself up and letting himself fall back down, swallowing the cock inside himself.

He watched the men on the screen, suddenly worried he was getting too loud. He thought about Otabek and the way that he would love how loud he got. Would shove his fingers in his mouth and kiss his throat and feel him moan around him, against him. He thought of Otabek and he _wanted._

Yuri fumbled for the phone, closing the video, not interested in the bottom who was just beginning to frantically pull himself off onto his partners chest. He smashed his thumb too hard on the FaceTime button, his home screen thinking for a moment that he was trying to move his apps around or delete them. He slapped at the home button until his icons returned to normal. With more control, he tapped the FaceTime button and of course Otabek was the last person on his call list.

When the call started ringing, Yuri saw himself on the screen. He looked like a mess, his face sweaty, wet strands of hair sticking out of his bun, some falling over his neck. He turned to set the phone down, reaching behind himself to prop it against the side of the tub. He let his hair down, shivering when it tickled down his back. He shook it out, both hands feathering it out. He still had his hands threaded into his waves, elbows to the ceiling, back arched, dick deep inside him, when Otabek picked up.

“Yura?” he asked automatically, and Yuri heard his breath catch when he realized he was naked. Yuri looked over his shoulder, planting a hand behind himself, between him and the camera. Otabek was filling his screen, in his kitchen, probably leaning his elbows on the counter, holding his phone in his hands. _Fuck,_ he looked so good, his hair swept back out of his face, dark tattoos wrapping around his naked arms and chest. Yuri wanted to be _on him._ He’d settle for driving him crazy.

“Are you alone?”

Otabek nodded his head, mouth gaping, eyes dazed. Yuri nodded back, aware of the red flush covering his face. Then he turned back around. He put his hands on the floor in front of him and lifted up.

“ _Holy fucking shit_ ,” Otabek cursed, watching the purple toy slide out of his partner’s stretched and pink hole. Yuri rose up until he could feel the flair of the head just inside his hole, and he could feel the muscles in his thighs twitching as he tried to go slowly. He held his breath at the top of the toy, listening to the ragged sound of Otabek, imagining him watching. He sunk back down in a single, fast stroke. He couldn’t help groaning, dropping his head back, hair tickling the rise of his ass.

Yuri kept going, letting his head fall forward as he put more weight on his hands so he could snap his hips harder, faster. He let his head fall forward, the ends of his hair brushing his knuckles as he swayed and swayed. He was getting too loud, he could hear himself clearly over the run of the water. Biting down on his tongue, he tasted blood.

“Құдай, Мен дем алмаймын,” Otabek groaned, sounding wrecked. “You look so good like that, kitten. You’re taking it so well."

“It’s good, Beka,” Yuri whispered, but it was so quiet, he was so afraid of being too loud, he was sure his boyfriend didn’t hear him.

“Do you like it?” Otabek asked. “Are you going to come like that?”

Yuri realized that he didn’t know if he would. The thickness, and the heaviness, it was so overwhelmingly different and new, he hadn’t had time to think about his dick. He didn’t like the way it slapped against his stomach, so he grabbed it in one hand. His legs burned and twitched, and he was dewed with sweat. He almost laughed at the idea that he might need to take another shower.

“Yura, talk to me,” he barely heard Otabek, his own breath and whimpers were so loud in his own ears. Yuri leaned back, to reach for the phone. But the second he leaned back, the angle changed and his next thrust down lit him up inside.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, head falling back again. He planted his hand behind him and kept fucking his hips up, in short, fast strokes.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Otabek murmured. “Is that it? Is that where it is?” Yuri hung his head back far enough to catch a glimpse of the phone screen. Otabek’s cheeks were red, his eyes dark, his own arm flexing as he touched himself out of view of the camera. Yuri nodded loosely, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. “Is that how you’re gonna fuck yourself on my cock?” Otabek asked, voice shaking. Yuri nodded again, hair falling into his eyes before they squeezed shut.

His hand was moving faster over his dick now, and his grip was slick now, as if the dildo he was riding was pushing the precome out of him.

“Beka,” he whined. He looked at the phone, looked at Otabek watching him. “Fuck, I need you here.” It was impossible, and he knew it, but that didn’t make him want it any less. He couldn’t jerk himself fast enough, couldn’t fuck himself fast enough. Sweat was rolling across his forehead. His breath was coming in bursts, whines and whimpers trying to be held behind his teeth.

“I wanna be there,” Otabek breathed, his own arm moving hellishly fast. “I wanna be there, in you. I wanna fuck you so bad. I can’t wait to have you.”

“Please, please,” Yuri begged, and his voice was too loud, he knew it was too loud, but he couldn’t fucking stop it.

“You could take it, look at you, you were born for it,” Otabek groaned, leaning even more heavily against his countertop.

“I’m gonna come,” Yuri said, and at least he was so out of breath he had no choice but to whisper.

“Let me watch you come,” Otabek said, his own face shining with sweat, arm working furiously. He stepped away from the counter, drawing his phone with him until his phone camera could see below the linoleum edge. Yuri craned his neck, devouring the sight of his partner, shirtless, sweatpants pushed to his thighs, his fist flying over his cock. It was so big, it looked bigger than Yuri remembered, and sitting on his purple dildo in his bathroom in Russia he could almost _feel_ the way it would split him open. “Let me see you, let me see you, let me see,” Otabek panted, and Yuri knew it wouldn’t matter.

He came with a punched out huff, slamming his hips down so hard his ass slapped the floor obscenely, stinging his skin as his whole body imploded. He curled in on himself, still half twisted around, contorting around the cock pinning him to the floor. He heard Otabek cursing again, and tried to open his eyes to see, but he couldn’t get his body to behave enough to turn. He heard a clatter and a grunt, and he knew the sound of Otabek during orgasm.

They recovered separately, each panting and groaning. Yuri drew himself up off the toy. He hissed when it fell free, and the dildo swayed lewdly, shining wetly in the bathroom light. Yuri collapsed in a heap, slapping a hand out blindly towards his phone. He found it on a third attempt and drew it toward him. He looked at Otabek with empty, fucked-out eyes.

“That was fucking beautiful,” Otabek told him, still breathless, come doting his stomach and staining his grey sweats.

“I’m so fucking sore,” Yuri said with a molten voice.

“From the toy or from the work out?”

“Yes,” Yuri groaned pitifully, glaring half-heartedly when his partner laughed. They breathed quietly for a few moments, Yuri watching silently while Otabek made his unsteady way to the couch and sat heavily down onto it. The Russian started to shiver as sweat cooled on his skin against the cold tiles.

“You should get in bed,” Otabek suggested, and now it was Yuri’s turn to drag himself to a comfier venue. He stepped around the mess in the bathroom, and winced at the uncomfortable sensation of a loose, wet hole. His knees shook as he turned off the water, taking a few mouthfuls before cutting the flow. By the time he collapsed into his own bed, his eyes were heavy and his feet were cold. He burrowed into the blankets and held the phone against the pillow, catching half of his face.

“Hey,” he said softly, the night catching up to him. “I can’t believe I called you like that.” A blush crawled up into his cheeks and he tugged his comforter up to cover it.

“I’m really fucking glad you did,” Otabek breathed, rubbing his hand over his face. The new stick and poke tattoo on his thumb stood out to Yuri and he couldn’t wait to see in person.

“Do you really think I’m ready?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, picking at his pillow. “To take all of you?”

“How long have you been practicing with your toy?” Otabek asked.

“Just today,” Yuri said, cheeks red, looking up from below his lashes.

“That was the first time you used it?” Yuri nodded. “Fuck,” Otabek breathed. “You looked like a natural, babe, you took it so well.” Yuri squirmed, naked in his bed, so far from where he wanted to be. “You can definitely take it.”

“Goddamn, Beka,” Yuri whined. “When do I get to see you again?”

“We said two more weeks and I would be able to come to you, but I’ll talk to my coach about this weekend,” Otabek smiled at the screen and Yuri smiled dopily back.

“So just four more days?” he asked, perking up immediately.

“We’ll have to see what they say,” Otabek cautioned. “But best case scenario, yeah.” He sighed, dreamily. “In four days I could be in that bed with you.” Yuri blushed and buried his face in his pillow. He couldn’t wait.

“Make sure they say yes,” Yuri said, trying to sound tough and not like his insides had been turned into goo. “I don’t care what you have to threaten them with, you need to get your ass to Russia.”

“I’ll be there, babe,” Otabek promised, before trying to cover a huge yawn. “I’ll talk to my coach in the morning, you talk to Viktor and Katsuki. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Yeah, same,” Yuri said, trying to fight a yawn of his own. Thought there was a three hour time difference, with the grueling workouts Yuri was getting from Viktor, they two got up and went to bed around the same time. Yuri would never thank Viktor for it, because it was miserable and inhumane, but he did like being on the same page with his partner. Even if that meant getting up at four in the morning and collapsing into bed, utterly exhausted, at nine at night.

“We need to sleep,” Otabek said.

“Yeah,” Yuri agreed. “Get ready for bed, I’ll stay on with you.”

Yuri watched sleepily as Otabek wen through his nightly rituals, things Yuri had intimate knowledge of, and could perfectly remember the nights he’d done them right alongside him. They chatted, quietly, mostly devolving into one sentence remarks, met by hums and murmurs. By the time Otabek was in bed with his lights off, Yuri realized he hadn’t brushed his teeth. He groaned and decided to fuck it, he wasn’t getting back up.

He told Otabek that, and Otabek called him a disgusting creature and bullied him until he got up and brushed, a resentful glare on his face the whole time.

By the time they were both truly ready for bed, Yuri with clean teeth and wrapped in cozy pajamas, and Otabek with his sleep playlist playing and the blinds tightly drawn, they didn’t have anything left to say to each other. That doesn’t mean they hung up the call. Instead, they fell asleep listening to the sound of the other breathing, and it was almost like they were together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you this short little chapter was enough for now. Please leave a comment, it really is what fuels me when I feel like I can't write another chapter.


	18. The Big Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what you expect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now what you've all been waiting for

“Yura, you need to be quiet,” Otabek hissed.

“I can’t,” he whined. “ _Fuck_ , I can’t.”

“You have to,” Otabek told him, pressing down harder against his chest. “I didn’t come all the way to Russia just so your dads can burst in the door the first time I put my dick in you.”

“Then you should’ve taught me how to be quiet in Kazakhstan,” Yuri gasped, biting his lip on a whimper when Otabek’s fingers twisted inside him.

“Why don’t you have a lifetime of experience quietly jerking off? Like everybody else?” Otabek asked, his teeth pulling at the curl of Yuri’s ear. His blond hair was growing damp with sweat, and he could still hear Viktor and Katsuki doing dishes in the kitchen.

“I’m not loud when I’m alone,” Yuri argued back, pushing his hips back on Otabek’s hand. “Nothing makes me scream like you do,” he breathed into his neck, scraping his teeth over his skin and smirking in satisfaction when Otabek groaned against him. Otabek arched into his mouth, pinning him down onto the bed.

“Fuck you, Plisetsky,” he growled, pushing a third finger in. Yuri gasped.

“Aren’t you going to?” he teased, breathless, thighs beginning to shake. He took the three so easily now. It didn’t even hurt. They twisted and scraped mercilessly over his prostate and Otabek’s hand slapped down over his mouth so hard it stung.

“You can’t fucking moan like that,” Otabek insisted, but he did the same thing with his fingers, again and again, and Yuri was gasping underneath his callused palm. “They’ll hear you.”

And he was right. He still remembered the awkward breakfast Yuri had endured after the first night with the dildo. There was a lot of averted eye contact on piggy’s part, and then Viktor decided to follow up, “would you like some toast,” with “you know, silicon lube will destroy a silicon toy. I hope you’re using water-based.” His room was, apparently, not as soundproof as he’d like.

Which made it frankly idiotic that he would find himself splayed out naked on his bed, in the dark, lube dribbling down his asscheeks, three fingers shoved up his hole, while his de facto parents did the fucking dishes right outside. But as soon as Otabek stepped on Russian soil, Yuri had one thing on his mind. Even worse, he could tell Viktor knew it. He’d drug out practice _miserably_ ; sit spins, quads, running suicides on the ice, making sure both boys were entirely exhausted. Then he made a stink about cooking dinner as a family and eating around the table. Though Yuri was bone-tired, his skin was crawling with the need to be covered in kisses. As soon as they could get away, Yuri was dragging his boyfriend to his room, flipping an obscene gesture over his shoulder at Viktor’s snickers.

The old man probably thought they were too sore to fuck. Yuri’s thighs were actually on fire, and his feet were killing him. But that was not about to stop him from getting what he’d been dreaming about for weeks.

Tears nearly sprang to his eyes when Otabek pushed a fourth finger in. Not in pain, it didn’t hurt, he was ready for it, but in overstimulation. It was _so good_ , and he’d waited for _so long._ It was just on the edge of too much, and Yuri didn’t know how he would survive.

“Are you okay?” Otabek huffed in his ear, and Yuri nodded his head frantically, hands clawing at his back. “Good,” he breathed, sucking absently at his neck. “I want you to come like this.” Yuri moaned underneath his hand. “I want you completely relaxed so it doesn’t hurt as much.” Yuri nodded again, smearing a messy kiss to his palm. “If I let go of your mouth will you be able to be quiet?” Otabek asked.

Yuri shook his head. He wasn’t able to be quiet now, with fingers in him and Otabek’s abs rolling over his aching dick. Otabek looked at him consideringly, before nodding once to himself and pushing up onto his knees as he pushed a few fingers into Yuri’s mouth. Sitting up was surprisingly graceful, without the use of his hands, but Yuri had learned to stop being surprised by the amazingly smooth things his partner could do. And when Otabek shimmied back on his knees far enough to suck his dick into his mouth while shoving four fingers into his ass and his mouth, nothing could’ve stopped the moan that built up in his chest.

“Shut up,” Otabek said against the head of his dick, fingers pushing further into him, one of his legs awkwardly trying to find somewhere to rest that wasn’t in the way of Yuri’s bent knee. Then he took him back into his throat, sucked hard and pressed against his prostate, and Yuri came, biting down fiercely on his fingers and bucking his hips hard enough to his hit partner in the face.

Yuri drifted for awhile on the haze of orgasm, marveling absently on how incredibly _better_ it was than doing it by himself. He hadn’t come that hard since the last time Otabek had sucked him down like he was trying to suck-start a vacuum. He became aware of himself again when Otabek drew his fingers out of his mouth. Thickly covered in spit, they left trails on his chin as he took them away, slicking his cock with it before following with another palmful of lube. Otabek had wasted no time while Yuri had been out of it, and when he was able to focus his vision, he saw his boyfriend between his legs, condom on, dick wet, watching his fingers push and pull at Yuri’s pink and puffy rim.

He whimpered breathlessly at the way his partner was watching him, and when Otabek heard him, he looked up with eyes nearly black, mouth hanging open and hungry.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice sounding like smoke but smooth as chocolate. Yuri nodded dumbly, spreading his legs even wider, until he was whorishly exposed against his cotton sheets. Otabek just shook his head and removed his fingers, grabbing one of his knees and pushing and pulling until Yuri’s boneless body rolled over. “Like this,” he said, nudging at him and kissing along his spine until Yuri had the muscular capacity to draw himself up to his hands and knees. “Tell me if it’s too much,” Otabek whispered, stretching himself over his back, one hand planted right next to his on the bed, the other holding his dick, stroking it over the soaked cleft of his ass.

“I’m ready,” Yuri promised him, voice already rough and spine feeling like liquid from his orgasm.

“I’m gonna go slow,” Otabek assured him, his quiet voice brushing over his face as he kissed his cheek. “You tell me when it hurts and I’ll stop and wait for you to adjust.”

“I’m ready,” Yuri said again, with feeling. And he was. He remembered being nervous. Just a few weeks ago he’d been terrified of the idea of a dick shoving up his ass. But then Otabek showed him how amazing, and soft, and hot, and _perfect_ sex could be. And now there wasn’t a thing he wasn’t prepared to try.

With a hand on Yuri’s hip and the other on his own dick, Otabek couldn’t cover Yuri’s mouth on the first push in. But when the fat head of his cock first stretched him open, all of Yuri’s breath left in a rush. He didn’t have the air to scream as Otabek’s cock slowly spread him farther open than he ever had been before. The bluntness, the heft, all things fingers had never prepared him for, and his toys had barely hinted at, in comparison with the real thing. Yuri wheezed at the wall in front of him, fingers twisting in the sheets as he struggled to relax. His thighs were shaking like he was fresh off the ice and a clammy sweat was popping up all over his skin. He cursed at himself mentally, having been so overwhelmed that he hadn’t even tried to identify the feeling of Otabek’s piercing as he first pushed against him.

Fuck, he was thick. Thicker than four fingers had been, and Yuri felt a sharp sting as he was forced open. That sting melded with an ache as Otabek slowly, patiently pushed in, deeper than his fingers had gone. Yuri’s arms were shaking, too, from the effort of holding himself up. Otabek stilled. He ran his hands soothingly up and down his back, presumably feeling the beads of seat covering every inch of him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Yuri didn’t entirely know how to answer that, when he felt as though if he breathed wrong he could tear himself open.

“Are you all the way in?” Yuri asked, haltingly, trying not to clench around the hot bar inside him.

“Half,” Otabek said, and he sounded strangled, like he was on the edge of pain. Yuri understood that.

“Fuck,” Yuri gasped, quietly. He let his head hang down between his shoulders and tried to focus. His back kept seizing up in tremors as he tried to relax, though Otabek’s soothing hands helped. He remembered the first time he played with the dildo. “Can you just start fucking me like this?” he asked, his voice cracking. “And the give me more when I’m ready?” He lifted one hand to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and almost collapsed when his remaining arm struggled to hold his weight.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend breathed, near silent, before drawing out and pushing in in miniscule thrusts. With the way Yuri clung to him, and the intensity of the sensation, it was nearly impossible to tell if he was getting any deeper. For long, aching minutes, Yuri bit his lip against whimpers as his body struggled to make room, battled to stretch and bend. It hurt, with a sharp sting and a deep ache, and Yuri knew he’d be more sore tomorrow than he’d ever been in his life before. But after long minutes of Otabek’s gentle rhythm, the sting turned to heat as his body loosened, and Yuri began to feel good again. By the time Otabek had worked his rhythm far enough that he was pulling out to the head before pushing back in to midshaft, in smooth, rolling thrusts, Yuri was almost too loud again. Punched out little whimpers as he was stretched inside, little whines as he felt his hole cling to him as he tried to pull out, throaty groans as he pushed hard over his prostate.

“Quiet, Yura,” Otabek whispered, and if he held his breath Yuri could hear his family chatting in the living room. It made something hot sink into his stomach when he thought about how the two of them were sitting on the couch drinking tea while he was a hundred feet away taking a cock up his ass.

“More,” he gasped, trying to convince his thighs to unlock so he could rock back into the thrusts. Otabek rumbled, curling over him, pressing his forehead against his back, hands bracketing his hips.

“Do you want it faster, harder, or deeper?” he asked, and Yuri could feel the way the question made goosebumps flare across his skin, both because of the breath he washed over him and the filthy way it made him feel.

“Yes,” he panted. “All of it.”

Little by little, he could feel Otabek slowly give in, slowly release his tightly held control. Which meant that by the time Otabek’s hips first slapped against Yuri’s, he was ready to grab Yuri’s head and push it into the pillows to muffle the scream.

“Fuck, Yura,” Otabek growled hotly into his hair, folding over his body, hips grinding deeply. “I knew it. I knew you’d take it so well. So perfect for me.”

Yuri didn’t have the capability of responding, as anything out of his mouth would’ve been shouted praise, so he took a thick mouthful of the pillow and hung on. He dug his hands into the sheets and finally found the desperate strength to start fucking his hips back, crying out into the pillows every time Otabek snapped his hips against him. Otabek grabbed his thighs and forced them a few more inches apart before shoving in brutally, skin slapping too loudly. Yuri’s eyes rolled back in his head and the only thing that stopped the scream was the big hand in his hair pushing him into the pillow.

Then that hand was curling through his blond waves, pulling him up just enough to breathe. Otabek sprawled over him again, mouth hot against his jaw and cheek as he smeared him with messy kisses. He braced his elbows on the bed in front of Yuri’s shoulders, caging him in.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So big,” Yuri gasped, aware that there were tears on his face. “Fuck,” he whimpered. “You’re so big.”

“Does it feel good?” Otabek asked, hips moving in sharp, shallow thrusts.

“Yes,” Yuri hissed through painfully clenched teeth. “You feel so good.” Otabek hummed, satisfied, scraping his hair out of the way so he could cover his shoulders with kisses, hips rolling steadily. Yuri reached for his hands, flailing until he was gripping at both of them. He arched his back, letting his stomach drop lower towards the mattress, changing the angle of Otabek’s cock inside him. He and his partner cursed brokenly at the same time, hands clenching together.

“Wait, fuck, did you hear that?” Otabek asked, suddenly, burying his dick completely inside him and stilling. Yuri tried to whine in protest, but Otabek covered his mouth. “Shh,” he hissed.

Yuri held his breath. Sure enough, he heard footsteps in the hallway. Over the pounding of his own heart, he could just make out the sound of Viktor and Katsuki making their way down the hall. Unconsciously, Yuri clenched down around the cock inside him. Otabek’s hand clenched painfully around his jaw, mashing his lips against his teeth as he cursed raggedly into his hair.

“Shit, I didn’t think you could get tighter, kitten,” Otabek breathed against him. “But you can’t do that right now. They’re right outside,” he murmured. Yuri whimpered into his palm. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

Yuri moved.

Tiny thrusts of his nearly pinned hips, small rolls that ground his partner’s cock against his prostate in an endless feedback loop of pleasure. He heard Otabek hissing his name, probably to tell him to stop, but it didn’t matter, hearing his name falling from his lips turned him on anyway. Yuri could feel his boyfriend’s every limb shaking with the strength it took to be still, to not give in, to not fuck into him until he had everyone in the entire fucking building knocking down their door.

When they heard the door to the master bedroom click shut, Otabek let out a massive breath, head hanging so it ruffled Yuri’s hair. The Russian waited a second for something to happen, but Otabek still seemed frozen. To spur things along, Yuri very carefully grabbed the hand covering his mouth and tugged it down. He redirected his hand to his throat.

“You’re fucking insane, Plisetsky,” Otabek growled, hand clenching tightly around his throat, hips drawing out to punch back in so hard Yuri jerked forward on the bed, the soft sheets scraping his nipples. “You exhibitionist little fucker, was that hot for you?” he asked, fucking him strongly, Yuri’s head shaking like a bobble as he held his throat and shook him with the force of his thrusts. Yuri couldn’t answer. But he also couldn’t scream like he wanted to either. “You want me to fuck you hard? You’re being a little shit so I’ll fuck you harder?” he asked, and Yuri nodded, the little amount that he good, gasping in his grip. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” Otabek murmured in his ear, and though the words were sweet, his tone was mean. “I’ll fuck you anyway you want,” he said, and it sounded like a threat.

Yuri didn’t have the ability to dwell on it. Otabek’s hand on his throat made it impossible to focus on anything but the brutal fucking he was getting, hands scrambling for a grip in the sheets. His own hips couldn’t keep up, so he just melted, taking every thrust as it came, silently gasping, eyes rolling back. His cock was leaking and splattering slick against his stomach, hitting against his skin as it slapped against his abs.

“Please,” he begged, silently, his lips shaping the words, but with no capability to speak. “Please, please, please,” he tried, again and again until a gasp pushed the word out of his mouth, loud enough to be heard over their labored breathing.

“What do you need?” Otabek asked, nosing at his ear, pressing so closely against him their skin slid slickly, covered in sweat.

“Touch me,” Yuri gasped, voice shattered, needing to come so desperately he couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or just rolled so far back they were sightless. Otabek’s other hand curled around him, his knees shoving against Yuri’s shaking legs to push them further apart. It wasn’t even a dozen thrusts before Yuri was bursting onto the sheets, screaming silently, body convulsing with the strength of it, clenching so tightly around the massive cock inside him that he thought he’d rip. Gripping down on that huge cock made it last so much longer, pressing on his prostate so hard it was like it was pushing out more and more waves of pleasure. By the time his body fell limp, he was lightheaded and barely conscious.

When Otabek released him, he poured out of his grip, his shaking legs collapsing so fluidly, it was as if his bones had been liquefied. The first sensation Yuri registered with the throb of a bitemark on his shoulder. Yuri shivered against the sheets, waves of pleasure still wracking through his exhausted body, his ragged breaths louder in the room than their fucking had been.

“Fuck,” Otabek said, collapsing on the bed next to him, chest heaving.

“Did you?” Yuri asked, blinking tears out of his eyes, a ringing in his ears. Otabek just groaned, nodding loosely as he tried to get the condom off without spilling, though his hands seemed about has functional and coordinated as Yuri felt. He heaved himself out of bed, heading to the bathroom, and Yuri lost track of him, lost track of himself. He woke up when Otabek touched a warm cloth to his face, wiping his cheeks clean before kissing them and cleaning up the rest of him. Yuri hummed gratefully, rooting into his touch, seeking him out now that he wasn’t so overheated.

When Otabek laid back down next to him, it was with careful hands brushing his hair back and thumbing over his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pressing feathery kisses along the path his thumb had taken.

“Beka,” he rasped. He closed his eyes, and must’ve drifted off again, because in what felt like seconds later, Otabek was tapping his cheek, calling his name.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, more urgently now, like he was worried he’d done irreparable damage to his brain by fucking him too hard. Or, actually, Yuri considered, he was probably worried he’d choked him too much. Yuri cleared his throat, finding that his windpipe wasn’t at all sore, meaning that Otabek had done a good job and never compressed the front of his throat, even accidently. Fuck, he was so spoiled.

“So good, Beka,” he whispered, twisting his sore, wrung-out body to face his partner. He reached for his face with a useless hand, trying to be tender when really all his body could handle was an exhausted shudder.

“You were crying,” Otabek murmured, scooting closer to him, sliding a hand around his shoulder to his back.

“It was so good,” Yuri said again, finding enough strength in his fingers to grab onto Otabek’s bicep and squeeze. “It was so incredible,” he breathed. “I’ve never felt so good.”

“You were incredible,” Otabek said, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “I should’ve known you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Yuri chuckled weakly, eyes pulling closed, genuinely exhausted. “Are you sore?” Otabek asked and Yuri’s forehead scrunched up at not being allowed to go to sleep. But he took a second to try to identify any sensation his body other than the blissful buzzing of post-orgasmic haze.

“I will be,” he predicted, feeling the promise of pain in the dull ache in his ass and his legs and the bite on his shoulder. “ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, stretching like a cat before melting further into Otabek’s side. “фажайып,” he said in Kazakh.

“фажайып,” Otabek said with an answering giggle. “Was it what you thought it would be?”

“It was better,” Yuri sighed, grabbing Otabek’s elbow and pushing his arm farther around himself, forcibly snuggling in. Otabek obliged with minimal prompting, hauling him up against his chest. “Was I good?” Yuri asked, after a few moments of quiet, in which he almost drifted off again.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Otabek said, voice gravelly. “Part of me wants to go to sleep, wake up in an hour or two, and fuck you again.” Yuri shuddered.

“Do that,” he said seriously, flicking at his nipple ring. “Fucking do that, please.” Otabek groaned

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked. “Practice almost killed me today.”

“I’m exhausted,” he answered honestly, a well-timed yawn distorting the word. “But,” he let his mouth brush against Otabek’s chest, “now I’m thinking about waking up with your cock inside me and being fucked back to sleep.”

Now it was Otabek’s turn to whimper helplessly into the darkness.

“Then I guess you’d better fall asleep.”

And Yuri did, with a smile on his face.

 

 

Yuri didn’t wake up to Otabek’s cock inside him. Instead, he woke up to Otabek pressed against his back, straddling his ass, fingers combing through his hair.

“Yura,” he whispered, and Yuri made a sound of consciousness at him. “Can I fuck you right now?” Because of course he would still ask again.

Yuri didn’t know what time it was. He didn’t know how long they’d been asleep. All he knew was that he could feel Otabek’s hard cock resting on his thighs.

“Yeah,” he said lazily, making no move to spread his legs or help in anyway. He just closed his eyes, snuggled back into his pillow, and sighed contentedly when Otabek pushed a few wet fingers into him. Yuri might have even drifted off again because it seemed like only seconds before the Kazakh’s dick was pushing into him again.

It was a good angle for his prostate, and with his dick pinned down between him and the bed, Yuri barely even had to move before he was fully hard and lazily accepting every stroke. He expended enough energy to wiggle one hand underneath himself to squeeze his cock, and let Otabek do all the work. When he came it was gentle and easy, and he was asleep again before Otabek even finished.

 

 

The next time he woke up, there was sunlight streaming through his bedroom window and dried come in crusty lines over his thighs and ass.

“Really?” he asked, groggily, when he noticed Otabek’s hands already running over the trails.

“I went straight back to sleep, I wasn’t going to clean up,” he said, as if that was any kind of defense. Yuri’s sleepy frown must’ve communicated how weak he thought that was.

“You’re ridiculous,” he critiqued, rolling over with the vague thought of stretching in mind. But he’d barely moved his legs before pain and soreness was shooting up his spine. He groaned, freezing up on his side, face pressing into his pillow.

“Does it hurt?” Otabek asked, shuffling across the open space between them where they’d drifted apart in sleep. Yuri nodded, trying to find a way to lay that didn’t make his sore muscles ache or the sharp pain in his ass twinge. “What can I do?” Otabek asked, running his hand up and down Yuri’s naked back, letting his darkly painted fingernails scratch lightly over his skin. Yuri just hummed, not knowing what would help the pain but knowing that the gentle petting was distracting, at least.

“What time is it?” he asked after a few minutes. Otabek rolled over to check his phone.

“Nine,” he reported.

“Really?” Yuri was surprised. He hadn’t slept in that late in weeks. Viktor should’ve been kicking down his door four hours ago, throwing Makkachin on him to lick his face until he was up. Curiosity made it worth it for Yuri to roll onto his back, biting his lip at the tight, angry soreness in his lower body. He patted around his side of the bed until he found his phone. Unplugging it, he saw he had a text.

 

**_Old Loser:_ ** _I know you’ll be sore after your “workout” yesterday ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) You have the day off. Don’t get used to it._

**_Old Loser:_ ** _I don’t want to know which one of you is limping, so Yuuri and I will be going on a romantic day trip. ;) <3 Please don’t have sex in any shared space. ;) *thumbs up* *boys with bunny ears* *red balloon* *peach* *eggplant*_

“Ugh,” he groaned, dropping his phone to his chest.

“What is it?” Otabek asked. “Practice?”

“No,” Yuri groaned again, turning his head to look at his partner, looking gorgeously sleep-tousled. “Viktor gave us the day off because he knew we’d be sore.”

“Why is that bad?”

“He used like thirty winky faces.”

“Oh,” Otabek said, shrugging with an amused smile.

“He put quotes around workout, as if he didn’t actually try to make us die yesterday,” Yuri groused, flexing his feet in the sheets and feeling how sore they were. “At least they’re gone for the day.” Yuri said, letting his fingers drift through his partner’s hair.

“We have the apartment to ourselves?” Otabek asked. Yuri nodded and he smiled gently, turning his head to kiss Yuri’s bicep where it was laid across the bed. “How about a bath? That’ll help with the soreness. And I’ll give you a massage, and make you tea. I’ll take such good care of you.” Yuri rolled his eyes.

“My ass is sore, I’m not dying, Beka,” he groused, tugging at his hair.

“I’d hate to have fucked you to death,” Otabek nodded seriously, and Yuri huffed a laugh, wincing a little at the soreness plaguing his body. “You start the tub, I’ll start the tea?”

“Never mind, I am dying,” Yuri insisted. “Carry me?” He blinked with wide, doe-eyes.

“You’re spoiled,” Otabek said shortly, though he was clearly fighting a grin.

“I really don’t want to try walking,” he said, a little more genuinely, bottom lip poking out in a pout.

“I did the same workout you did, in case you forgot,” Otabek said, though he was already getting out of bed, stretching long and lean as he walked around to Yuri’s side. He admired him objectively, letting his eyes roam easily over his naked form as he stretched the sleep and soreness out of his arms and legs. He came to Yuri’s side and knelt, running his hand through his hair, kissing his forehead before scooping him up into his arms. Yuri looped his arms around his neck and held on, pressing feathery kisses to his cheek and jaw.

“You didn’t get viciously fucked,” Yuri countered, wincing when Otabek set him down on the cold edge of his large bathtub.

“You loved it.”

“Yeah, I did,” Yuri grinned, pulling him down for a kiss. He wrinkled his nose at the morning breath shared between them. “Teeth first,” he declared when Otabek moved away to turn the hot water on. He stood, shakily, on bruised feet, sore legs and an aching ass. He walked to the sink, trying to make it look like it didn’t hurt, but the very guilty look Otabek gave him in the mirror told him he wasn’t successful.

With the water filling the tub, Otabek came up behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and letting him lean back against his chest, taking some of his weight while Yuri brushed.

“I’m sorry it hurts,” he murmured against his bare shoulder, the breath of his words causing goosebumps to spread over his skin.

“Worth it,” Yuri mumbled around his toothbrush, before bending to spit and rinse. “Will it hurt like this every time?”

“At first,” Otabek nodded. “You might get used to it after a while.”

“Has anyone you’ve been with before gotten used to it?”

“I don’t know,” Otabek said, looking away, grabbing for his own toothbrush. “I’ve never been with the same person for long enough to find out.”

“Really?” Yuri asked incredulously. He couldn’t imagine anyone having their chance to put their hands on Otabek and ever letting go. Otabek shrugged, mouth full of foam. Yuri leaned against the counter, the cold tile chilling, but he waited anyway. Otabek spit and rinsed and wiped his mouth on the towel by the sink. Yuri was still waiting when he peeked over at him, face half-hidden by cloth. Otabek huffed but dropped it, turning to face him and leaning his own hip against the counter. He looked up into his face and let one hand fall against his side.

“You’re my first boyfriend,” Otabek said with a shrug of feigned indifference.

Yuri blinked at him.

“Are you serious?” Otabek shrugged again,

“You’re a lot of firsts for me, too,” Otabek said, thumb brushing over his skin softly in a gentle arch. “I may be the first person who ever fucks you, or does anything with you.” He stepped closer, letting his arms loop around his waist. “But you’re the first person I’ve ever gone on a real date with. You’re the first person I’ve ever let sleep in my bed. You’re the first person I’ve ever let not use a condom or leave marks above my collar. The first person I’ve ever waited on, had to be faithful to.” He met his eyes sweetly, a nervous smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. “You’re the first person I’ve ever fallen in love with.”

Yuri was speechless. Breathless. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t’ve even if he did, so he just wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him in against his chest. Otabek came easily, hugging him tightly. Yuri buried his face in his hair and they leaned together.

“I love you,” is all he could say.

“I love you, too,” Otabek answered, dropping a kiss onto his collarbone, and that was enough.

After a few moments of solemnity, the chill drove them towards the water, both moving carefully on sore legs. Yuri dropped a bath bomb in the waters, smirking at the way Otabek rolled his eyes but inhaled deeply as pine and peppermint exploded into the air. They fought for a moment about who would get to be the little spoon, but Yuri won without much contest, and hummed victoriously as he cuddled back into his partner’s chest.

They unwound together, sore muscles relaxed by the hot, shimmering water. They spoke quietly, soft words shared in the warm space between them. By the time the water cooled, they were pruned and content. Climbing out, Otabek wrapped Yuri in a fluffy towel, drying him carefully, squeezing over his muscles. They dressed in soft clothes, made tea together in the kitchen, showing each other memes on their phones and wearing their thickest, fluffiest socks.

By the time Viktor and Katsuki returned, the two of them hadn’t done anything more than theraputic massages, make ice cream and waffles for dinner, and watch YouTube videos on the huge TV all day. Viktor was teasing as he greeted them, but Yuri was so filled with happiness and contentment that he didn’t mind. He just grunted at them in dismissal, holding Otabek closer against his chest, tucking his face against the bared curve of his neck.

“Hey,” he whispered, when Viktor and Katsuki wandered into the kitchen.

“Mm?”

“I love you,” Yuri murmured again, like he’d been doing all day, because he couldn’t help himself. “I’m keeping you. Forever.”

“I love you, too,” Otabek said, again, like he’d done all day. Because it was all they needed. And when the two adults came back into the room, Yuri didn’t pull away. He stayed tangled up with his partner, taking up the whole couch. And as Viktor teased and Katsu cooed, Yuri refused to blush. Or, maybe he still blushed, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t imagine ever letting go. Not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please scream with me in the comments


	19. Almaty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long ass time my friends. 
> 
> Turns out getting into graduate school is scary and stressful. If anyone knows any cool professors who do sensory biology in social invertebrates, hit me up.
> 
> So I'm sorry this took forever and it kinda sucks, but I wanted to write this in order to put off doing applications. 
> 
> Please leave a comment so I feel validated and loved.

“Beka, come here,” Yuri said softly, reclining on the familiar couch in Almaty. He’d gotten off the plane a few hours ago, a blissfully short and easy flight followed by a nap and a snack cuddled up under Otabek’s arm. Said boyfriend was in his bedroom, flipping through records looking for one he wanted to play for Yuri. But he’d taken so long, probably distracted by his weird obsession with his record collection, that Yuri was starting to miss him.

“In a minute,” Otabek called back, and Yuri could hear the preoccupation in his voice.

“You haven’t seen me in weeks and all you’re doing is drooling over your fancy records,” Yuri whined, stretching luxuriously, relishing in the sound of his joints popping.

“Be patient, kitten, you can wait a little longer,” was all he got in reply, and Yuri pouted in complete disappointment.

“No, I can’t,” he moaned, twisting around on the couch to glare at the open doorway leading to the bedroom.

“Alright, alright, whatever you say,” Otabek said, appearing in the doorway, record in hand. He saw Yuri’s scowl and immediately a full and bouncing laugh floated out of his throat. The sound was so familiar and soothing, it made the bristle of being neglected relax a little, and Yuri tried to hold onto the scowl, and not smile at how nice it was to be here again. He snapped his teeth and Otabek when he came near enough to tousle his hair, but smiled softly as soon as his back was turned. He watched the easy, competent motions of Otabek’s hands as he loaded a record into the player, starting a gentle rhythm. He looked his fill, hungrily devouring a sight he hadn’t had the privilege of in so long. By the time Otabek was making his way back to the couch, Yuri couldn’t have tamed the sappy grin on his face even if he’d tried. He did feel a little better at seeing how easily it turned his partner into complete goo, the sharp line of Otabek’s shoulders falling even further as he relaxed completely.

“Hey,” he said simply, stretching out to lie next to Yuri, perched so precariously on the edge of the couch that the Russian quickly lashed out to wrap an arm around his waist. “Is this another working vacation?”

“Mh hm,” Yuri nodded. “I am still on the usual routine and usual diet. Viktor says if I slack at all, I won’t be allowed back until competition season is over.”

“That’s okay, my coach said the same thing,” Otabek murmured. “At least we’re on complementary schedules. I’ve got ice in the morning, you’ve got it after lunch.”

“Sounds good,” Yuri said, eyes closed, nuzzling closer to his partner, sinking fully into the couch. He brushed his nose against his and hummed happily.

“Did you just purr?” Otabek laughed, scratching his fingers through his hair.

“Of course not,” Yuri said, though he did push into Otabek’s touch, rub his face against his face, and hum even louder.

“My sweet little kitty,” he teased, and Yuri nipped at his ear.

“I’m not sweet.”

“Oh, definitely not. You’re very fearsome.”

Yuri preened happily, tugging Otabek closer to him. They settled into each other, breathing in the same space again, letting the quiet, gentle music soothe through them. They chatted quietly, telling stories and filling each other in on anything they might’ve missed in the last few weeks. By the time the sun was turning everything gold and orange in the window, the record had stopped and they kissed to the quiet rhythm of their own heartbeats.

“I missed you,” Otabek breathed, brushing damp lips across the delicate skin under his eye.

“I missed you too,” was the easy reply.

“No, I mean, I missed you so much. More than I usually do,” Otabek confessed, his voice going low and serious. “I thought about you everyday. And it _hurt_.”

“I know, I feel the same way,” he answered quietly. “I’ve been thinking,” Yuri said, very slowly, drawing the words out. He’d been thinking about this for a long time. He felt like this might be the time to say it. “After this competition season, I think maybe we should have a talk.”

“A talk?” Otabek asked, hesitantly. “A good talk?”

“I hope so,” Yuri whispered between them, eyes wide as he tried to take in every part of his partner’s face. “I think maybe we should talk about our future? And, um, where you see us going?”

“Where do _you_ see us going?” Otabek asked, and with their chests pressed tightly together, Yuri could tell he was holding his breath.

“Anywhere,” Yuri said, tightening his arm around his waist. “Anywhere. As long as it’s together.” Otabek’s face broke into a beautiful grin, one that Yuri was helpless to answer.

“To Russia, then?” he asked. “Together?”

“Only if you want to,” Yuri rushed to say. “I know it hasn’t even been a year yet, but if you wanted to come to Russia, I think we could get a place together. Katsuki is retiring after this season, for real this time, and he really admires your stamina and footwork, so I know he’d want to work with you.” Yuri was talking too fast, too excitedly, but he’d been thinking about it for so long, staring at his ceiling late at night, imagining a perfect future. One that might actually come true. “I know you don’t want to leave Kazakhstan, and you know I would come here to stay with you in an instant, if Viktor and Katsu could come with. And I don’t want you to feel like I’m making you sacrifice your family to come be with mine, but I just think it would work out. And we can still visit here all the time, but we’d be flying together, instead of _to_ each other, and I just think that sounds so much better.” He panted slightly, out of breath with how quickly he’d been speaking. His eyes were flickering all over his partner’s smiling face, hoping with every inch of his being that he would say yes.

“Yes.”

Yuri couldn’t kiss him fast enough.

 

That night, when Otabek laid down to go to bed, Yuri crawled directly up onto his chest. Otabek wheezed, but wrapped his arms around him anyway.

“You know we can’t actually sleep like this,” he commented, kissing the top of his head anyway.

“I know,” Yuri whined, but he just nestled in closer, his knees coming up on either side of Otabek’s body, squeezing his hips.

“How about I put something on for you to fall asleep to?” Otabek said, reaching towards the bedside table for his laptop. “And once you’re asleep, I’m going to dump you off me and try to heal my broken ribs.”

“Shut up,” Yuri grumbled, digging boney fingers into his side for a vengeful tickle. “I’m not that heavy.”

“You’re pretty heavy,” Otabek complained, using one hand to bring up a movie on Netflix.

“Not on this diet Viktor’s got me on, I’m not,” Yuri groused, turning his cheek on Otabek’s chest so he could see the screen.

“This?” Otabek asked, mousing over the Iron Giant.

“Too loud.”

“Mkay, how about this?” Otabek said, scrolling until he got to the Corpse Bride.

“Perfect,” Yuri sighed, petting gentle shapes into his partner’s sides. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” Otabek said, hugging his arm up around his waist. “Go to sleep, Yura.”

Eventually he did, lulled to sleep by the dull grey of England and the intimate beat of Otabek’s heart. He woke up when Otabek finally pushed him off his chest, fluttering eyelids and sleepy grumbles as he wormed away from the cold sheets and back towards the heat of his partner. He was quickly nestled under his arm, and fell back into deep sleep with Otabek’s breath ruffling his hair.

 

Otabek woke up first, because of course he did, and he was gracious enough to coax Yuri out of bed with gentle kisses and strong coffee. Yuri hated the way the time difference made him feel so exhausted, so cheated of sleep, but waking up with Otabek’s hands soothing over him helped relax the frown already puckering his brow.

“You know you’re route, right?” Otabek said, his voice hushed in deference to the disgustingly early hour. The sun was just barely peeking over the skyline, the sky still a dusty purple.

“Yeah,” Yuri yawned, tying his running shoes tightly and adjusting the brace hugging one of his ankles.

“How far are you going for?” Otabek asked as he double-checked his practice bag.

“Three or four kilometers,” Yuri shrugged. “Gym, then yoga, then you,” he said, tilting his face for a tired kiss.

“Wanna be irresponsible and spend our lunch break eating each other out?” Otabek asked with a devilish grin as tossed Yuri his jacket.

“Ugh, it’s too early to think about sex,” Yuri said, zipping himself up all the way to his chin, keeping his headphone wires free.

“No such thing,” Otabek scoffed, reaching under his jacket to pinch his ass as he walked out the door ahead of him.

“Knock it off,” Yuri scolded with a smile on his face. They kissed in the elevator, held hands on the subway, and hugged outside the rink.

“I’ll take your bag in,” Otabek said, kissing his cheek. “Have a good run. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“That’s quality motivation,” Yuri hummed, leaning down to touch their cold noses together.

“Better hurry, then,” Otabek laughed, his breath cold and clouding between them. With one more kiss, they went their separate ways. As the sun rose over the Almaty morning, Yuri couldn’t help but run a little faster through the cold air, footsteps pounding on the quiet street. No matter where he went in the city, he knew he’d end up at Otabek again.

 

“Nap and then dinner?” Otabek asked as they shuffled their way back into the apartment on aching feet. “Leena wants us to go over to her place for food. A lot of my friends will be there, they’re all excited to see you again, but it should still be pretty casual.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Yuri said easily, dropping his jacket by the door and kicking out of his shoes, wincing when new blisters and bruises twinged in pain. “Shower first.”

“I’m pretty sure I called dibs on the first shower,” Otabek said, tossing his phone onto the bed as they made their way into the bedroom.

“And I’m pretty sure I invited myself in to join you,” Yuri retorted, crowding up behind him and steering him towards the bathroom with insistent hands. Otabek just chuckled, allowing his partner to herd him towards the shower, lips brushing over his cheek. Yuri smiled when Otabek turned the water hot enough, knowing he had begrudgingly adjusted to the ridiculous temperatures at which Yuri liked to bathe, complaining that he was being boiled alive whenever he tried to get clean with his partner. Yuri showed his appreciation by peeling him out of his sweaty practice clothes, being careful with his ankles, bruised from skating, and palms, blistered from lifting. He kissed each bump and blemish lightly, sometimes just ghosting his lips over the injury, letting his intention be known.

“You’re too good to me,” his partner commented, his voice low and genuine, and it hurt Yuri a little inside that Otabek really thought that, that Otabek didn’t understand that everything Yuri tried to do was to make himself good enough for his love.

“Two-way street,” Yuri said gruffly, shoving his partner under the water as soon as both his socks were off. “You take care of me, I take care of you.”

“You’re getting soft, Plisetsky,” Otabek hummed, tipping his head back to wet his hair.

“Really? Cause you’re making me pretty hard right now,” he quipped back easily, stepping in close to press his hips against his stomach. His dick wasn’t actually hard, yet, but he wasn’t going to let an opportunity like that slip by. His boyfriend laughed good-naturedly at the line, and Yuri reveled in the unique experience of being able to make someone so beautiful laugh like that. So perhaps he was smiling a little goofily when Otabek wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close.

After a soapy handjob and Yuri spending a few minutes resting his legs by kneeling on the shower floor with a cock in his throat, they got out and dried off, chatting idly about their plans for the night.

“We can run by the store and pick something up to bring,” Yuri suggested, toweling his hair.

“Bottle of wine, or something,” Otabek agreed, stepping into well-worn boxers. “We also need to remember to pack lunches for practice tomorrow before we go. You’ll say you’ll do it in the morning, but we both know you won’t.”

“Yeah, alright,” Yuri nodded, rubbing product through his damp hair. “Should we go grocery shopping?”

“I think we’ll be okay for another day or two,” Otabek answered. “I remembered to get those chips you like,” he mentioned, pulling soft pants up over his hips and coming over to give Yuri’s cheek a kiss.

Yuri smiled softly at him in the mirror, wrapped around his back, chin just barely high enough to prop up on his shoulder. Yuri marveled at how familiar his arms looked slung around his waist; tan, tattooed skin over his pale stomach. He leaned back into his chest and sighed at the feeling of being completely content.

“Did we just plan the next few days together like old people?” he asked.

“Not old people,” Otabek said, kissing his shoulder. “Happy people.”

“Yeah,” Yuri said, turning in his arms, “happy people.” He kissed him, and thought that maybe being old with Otabek was exactly what he wanted to be. “Now get your pretty ass in bed. I need a nap.”

 

 

“Hey, so I wanted to get you something, but when I was looking online at stuff, a lot of people said it would be nice to do together,” Yuri said the next day, lounging in bed, playing absently with Otabek’s hair. “So I was wondering if you wanted to go on an errand with me?”

“Of course, babe,” Otabek smiled easily, running his fingers over the coarse hair on his stomach. “Where are we going?”

“Well, you know how you always call me kitten?” Yuri started, letting his arm fall to his waist as Otabek pushed up onto his elbow over him and smirked down at him.

“You wanna go to a sex shop and buy some ears and a fluffy tail?” Otabek said flicking at his nipple.

“Not exactly…”

 

Which is how they ended up at the sex shop two subway stops away, browsing through the aisle of collars.

“So you don’t want to wear cute little ears and lick your little paws and purr at me?”

“Not today,” Yuri said, twirling around in the aisle and dropping a headband with floppy puppy ears on his boyfriend’s head. “Don’t you want to be a good boy for me?”

Otabek blushed, adorably, with black felt ears folding over his forehead.

“This does it for you?” he asked, with a sassily quirked brow.

“A little,” Yuri giggled, before turning to the collars and leashes. “But this is what really gets me.”

“You’re a little freak, aren’t you?” Otabek murmured threading their fingers together.

“I learned from the best.”

The leather was smooth against his skin as he ran his fingers over the array of collars, hanging from the buckles with matching leashes below. There were varying shades of black and brown, and a few vibrantly bright colors that were so shiny they could’ve been latex. There were ones with silver fixtures and ones with gold, some even had spikes and designs.

“There are so many options,” he breathed, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Otabek agreed lifting his arm over his head to wrap around his shoulders, leaning into his side. “Which one do you want?”

“I think we should decide together, right?” Yuri chewed on his lip. “I want it to be for you, too. Like, if you’re not into it, we don’t have to do it.”

“Babe, I’m into it,” Otabek said, turning to face him. “I’m teasing you because it’s fun to tease you, but I am one hundred percent on board with this idea.” He stepped in close and tilted his face up, clearly angling for a kiss. When Yuri dipped his chin to give it to him Otabek sighed happily into it before pulling back to whisper, “I can’t wait to be your good boy.”

“Oh fuck yes,” Yuri groaned, kissing him again, one hand tangling in his hair. Maybe Paulo was right and they were loud kissers, because it wasn’t long before an employee came back to tell them to take it home or start selling tickets.

They picked out an illustrious black collar with a simple silver buckle and an unbelievably supple braided leash. It took everything in Yuri not to buckle it on him right in the store, but he was sure the metro ride home would get indecent if he did that. So he let the cashier fold them carefully in tissue paper and place them in the bag. They were halfway out the door when the woman called out to them.

“You can keep the ears, too,” she said, winking at Otabek. “They suit you.” Yuri had genuinely forgotten he was wearing them, and by the intensity of Otabek’s blush, he had as well. He thanked the woman calmly and then immediately pulled the headband off his head and stuffed it into Yuri’s bag. Yuri laughed almost the whole way home. But when they got back to Otabek’s apartment, his stomach was back to being lit up with nervous excitement, and he forced himself through several deep breaths as he let his partner hang up his jacket by the door.

“So,” he said, long and slow, drawing it out. “What do you want to do?” Otabek rolled his eyes and smirked at him.

“I want to get on my knees and suck your dick,” he said, slowly stepping up into his space. “But,” he said, and Yuri whined. “We need to have a serious discussion first.” Yuri grumbled on principal but let himself be led to the couch. “We’ve done some kinky things in the past, but this is new territory for both of us, so I think we should talk over it a little bit.”

“Okay, good idea,” Yuri said, sitting too close to Otabek to actually have a good and focused discussion. Otabek noticed and kissed his cheek before scooting a few inches away. Still, he let Yuri lean over and drop the headband back over his head. “What are you comfortable with?” he asked, flicking at the dark ears.

“I’m _comfortable_ with basically anything,” Otabek said easily, “as long as you warn me about it beforehand. What I’m _interested_ in, and actively excited about, is subbing for you in a general sense. I like it when you hurt me. I like the collar,” he said, a slow sexy smile spread over his face. “And I would be completely happy with you yanking me around by it.” He paused and frowned for a moment at his partner. “You remember that it’s not safe to choke someone with a collar or a strap, right?”

“Yes, I know,” Yuri said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He knew this was serious. “If I want to choke you, I’ll use my hands.” A visible shiver ran down Otabek’s back and he shook his head briefly to try to focus on the conversation.

“I don’t feel strongly about the puppy aspect of it, but as long as you don’t want me to bark or fetch, I’m totally okay with whatever you might want to call me.”

“I don’t want you to act like a dog, Beka,” Yuri said with a strained chuckle. “I just want to treat you like one.”

“Fuck, Yura, God,” Otabek groaned, rubbing over his face. “What does that mean for you?”

“I wanna see you in your collar,” Yuri said, his voice getting gruff as he pictured it. “I wanna put you on a leash, I wanna pull you onto my cock and make you get all slobbery and wet. And then I want you with your ass in the air, your cute little ears bouncing around, I want you whining and unable to touch yourself.”

“Fuck, yes,” Otabek groaned, sinking to the floor and putting his chin on Yuri’s knee, long-fingered hands curling around his calves. “Tell me more.”

“You look so good down there,” Yuri said, combing his fingers through the sides of Otabek’s hair, flicking at the ears. “I wanna smack you in the face with my dick and spank you with your own leash and call you a pretty bitch.”

“Do you want to hurt me?” Otabek asked, his voice catching in his throat.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “A little. I want you to beg me to hurt you.”

“Enough talking,” Otabek groaned, hands sliding up to start pulling at his clothes. Yuri almost let him.

Instead he grabbed him firmly by the jaw.

“Bad dog,” he whispered and Otabek growled. “Let’s get you in your collar.” Otabek sat back on his heels, hands limp at his sides and watched hungrily as Yuri dug into the bag. He pulled out the collar and slid the leather between his hands. Clasping it carefully around Otabek’s throat, they both shivered. Otabek’s eyes started to drift shut and a light moan floated free. Yuri applied the rules he’d learned online and left it loose enough to fit a finger comfortably under the leather strap. He felt Otabek swallow against his knuckle, which alerted him to how dry his mouth was.

Clearing his throat, he clipped the leash through the loop, his dick twitching in time with the metallic click. Yuri stood, and tugged at Otabek until he did the same.

“Take your clothes off,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Otabek obeyed immediately, unzipping his hoody and undoing his belt. When he pulled his shirt off over his head, Yuri had to drop the leash. Otabek untangled the leash and then immediately handed it back to Yuri, with such a peaceful look on his face that Yuri couldn’t look away. So when he was completely stripped, Yuri didn’t look away. He wrapped the leather once around his fist and tugged. Otabek followed his lead easily, so Yuri walked backwards toward the bedroom, watching the easy grace of Otabek stalking after him.

“I could crawl,” Otabek offered, his voice low and dark.

“I know your knee hurts,” Yuri said after he caught his breath, his throat clicking while he swallowed.

“It’s fine, please,” Otabek insisted.

“If you get on your knees right now there will be nothing stopping me from fucking your face,” Yuri said, and he supposed it was a warning. But Otabek knelt with a fluid grace in the middle of the apartment, and his mouth opened without even being asked.

Yuri groaned, shoving the front of his joggers down, and yanking Otabek in by the leash to press his half-hard cock against his face. Otabek moaned against him and Yuri didn’t waste time in pushing his dick into his mouth. He started licking and sucking immediately, like a good boy, and Yuri’s knees shook. He fumbled, awkwardly, bracing himself against his partner’s head while he picked one of his feet up and over the leash. It was just long enough to run between his legs, up his back and over his shoulder to rest against his chest. He yanked on it, and it drug Otabek further down his dick, making his choke for half a second before he adjusted and swallowed him beautifully. The cool leather slid between Yuri’s asscheeks and along his spine, chilling where his skin was already beginning to heat.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” he bit out, pulling Otabek off his dick by his hair and then yanking him back with the leash. His ears shook and he whined and whimpered. “You’re such a good boy, such a good boy.” After long enough that his balls were starting to ache and his face was getting sweaty, with great reluctance he dropped the leash and took a step away. His dick bobbed in the air between them, strings of saliva falling down to darken the material of his pants, Otabek’s mouth still open and empty. “Fuck, you look so good,” Yuri said, bending to kiss his wet and swollen mouth. He grabbed him by the collar and the hair and pulled him up to standing, and then a little farther until he was on his tiptoes, gasping into his mouth. “Come on,” Yuri said, tugging him forward, towards the bedroom. “Bed, right now. Be a good boy.”

Otabek complied immediately, following in step with him, his eyes starting to have a glazed look to them. His dick was hard, hanging low between his legs from the weight of all that blood, but he didn’t try to touch it.

Yuri laid back on their bed, tugging on Otabek’s leash until he was on all fours on top of him. The head of his dick brushed against the wiry hairs on Yuri’s stomach and Otabek drew in a shocked breath.

“You look so good like this,” Yuri said, petting down his flanks. He slapped his ass as hard as he could and Otabek yelped quietly above him, hanging his head between his shoulders. Yuri spanked him again and then started guiding him around with the leash. “Such a pretty boy, you want a treat, don’t you?” he asked, huffing with laughter as he grabbed his dick around the base and shook it.

“Yes,” Otabek said, turning around over him and kneeling above him again, facing his feet. Yuri slapped his ass hard and pushed a dry thumb into his hole. Otabek flinched and cried out.

“Puppies don’t speak,” Yuri said sternly, before tugging his head down towards his dick by his collar and replacing his thumb with his tongue. Otabek whimpered against him, his thighs starting to tremble as he took Yuri back into his mouth. Yuri blindly pushed the leash under one of his thighs, anchoring it to the bed so he could yank Otabek down if he wanted. It was a little awkward to maneuver with, but every time Otabek swallowed around him and Yuri’s fist clenched around the supple leather, he was sure that it was worth it.

He ate Otabek’s ass like he was hungry for it; every little whine that snuck out around his cock, vibrating against the head, drove his tongue harder. But, fuck, Otabek was still better. Sucking him off like it was his job, pulling off teasingly just to make Yuri yank him back down, letting himself be wet and messy. Yuri knew he was too close to keep playing this game, not if he wanted to win.

Untangling the leash from around his leg, Yuri yanked back, until Otabek was pulled off his cock and up to seated, effectively smothering him with his perfect ass. Yuri pulled until his fist was against the bed above him, making Otabek arch back, hands planted on the mattress, stomach stretched and vulnerable. Otabek was panting like he was fresh off the ice and his hips were squirming, toeing the line between discomfort and complete pleasure.

“Fuck, yeah,” he heard Otabek breathe. He turned his head and took a vicious bite of his ass, teeth clamping too hard to be playful. Otabek jerked away, but was held in place by his throat. Yuri pushed him off, onto his hands and knees next to him. Surging up behind him, Yuri forced a length of leash into his mouth, holding both ends behind his head as a gag.

“I said, puppies don’t speak,” he growled into his ear dangerously, draping his body over his back. He felt every muscle underneath him quiver as Otabek moaned. He reached for the lube, but the bedside table was out of his reach. For an awkward, fumbling moment, he tried to move enough to get it without releasing his hold on his partner. It wasn’t possible. “Stay,” he said firmly, hoping that his boyfriend hadn’t noticed the awkwardness, wasn’t taken out of the scene by it like he was.

He let go, scrambling off the bed to dig around in the drawer for the good lube. He looked up and Otabek wasn’t watching. Instead, he had his head hanging between his shoulders, teeth indenting the leather to hold it in his mouth, hips shifting restlessly as he waited.

“Otabek, be still,” he said, eyes on the wag of his hips. He froze, and Yuri drug his eyes up the tense length of his body. He got to his face and saw him looking at him; eyebrow raised and a smirk pulling his lips up around the leash. He shook his ass.

Yuri tried fiercely to frown, but he couldn’t keep the excitement off his face as he leapt back to the bed and shoved his partner’s chest down with a hard hand between his shoulders. Otabek huffed as he collapsed down onto the bed, and for a brief moment it looked like he was going to drop his hips too. Yuri corrected that with hard slaps to his ass and thighs, grabbing harshly and shaking.

“You’re a bad dog,” he groaned. “You keep your pretty ass in the air.” Otabek didn’t squirm or misbehave at all, seemingly pleased with the punishment he incurred. Yuri hit him until his skin was red and his hand was sore. Checking in, Yuri saw that his eyes were half-lidded and almost completely pupil, his mouth was lax and gasping around the leash, hands limp in the sheets. Pushing him thumb into his hole, Yuri saw Otabek’s eyes roll back but he didn’t make a sound.

He’d read about it online, and he’d definitely experienced it himself, but he’d never gotten Otabek down into subspace before. And while his cock was pulsing with arousal, he also felt oddly honored to have the privilege and trust of seeing him like this.

“Good,” he said, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat. “You’re a good boy, sweetie,” he murmured, running his hot hands up and down his back, combing through his hair before digging into the red skin of his ass. Otabek pushed into his touch and Yuri laid kissed all over his ass while he slicked his fingers.

Stretching him the bare minimum while still pushing tortuously over his prostate, Yuri pulled the leash out of his mouth and carefully turned his collar around on his throat until the lead was at the base of his neck. When he pushed in, his hand slipped on the leash where it was wet with Otabek’s spit. Wrapping it a few times around his hand, Yuri pulled him back until he was fully buried in his ass. Pulling back and snapping forward, Yuri knew by the way he fucked back into his thrusts that the slap of his hips hurt the aching skin of his ass. He let kisses fall across the skin of his back, feeling every twitch and whine against his lips.

He wanted Otabek to come untouched, like a good bitch, but he knew he wouldn’t last that long. Letting a little slack in the leash, Yuri reached down and stroked him with the fist wrapped in leather and Otabek cried out.

“It’s okay, my good boy,” Yuri said, trying to be soothing but sounding strained and tight from the effort it took to not blow it. “You’ve been such a good boy, my pretty little bitch. Come for me, pup, you can come.” He babbled, fucking into Otabek harder, so fucking close himself. He felt Otabek tighten and come around him, making a mess of his fist and his leash, and before he was even finished Yuri was planting both hands on his shoulderblades and fucking him furiously into the mattress for the final few minutes it took him to explode.

Yuri wheezed, folding over his partner, feeling genuinely lightheaded. He wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and collapse into sleep, but he knew he couldn’t. He had a responsibility to his partner. He had to clear his throat twice and swallow hard before his mouth felt wet enough to actually produce a word.

“Hey, Beka,” he panted softly, sliding off of and out of his partner, carefully unclipping his leash but leaving the collar on. “You okay, babe?”

Otabek just groaned into the sheets, legs finally sliding out from underneath him. Yuri hummed in an empty response, pressing a kiss behind his ear before staggering out of bed and grabbing a cloth from the bathroom. He carefully cleaned up and then rubbed the special aloe lotion into the red skin of his ass and thighs. When Otabek was still glassy eyed and silent, Yuri decided to take the massage all the way up his back, even going as far as to grab his tattoo brightening balm and rub that into his skin. After a long time, Otabek started stirring underneath him, pushing up into his hands.

“Hi, sweet boy,” Yuri said, nuzzling into his hair and removing the ears so he could comb through his sweaty fringe. “You feeling okay?”

“Fuck, Yura,” Otabek rasped, his throat sounding dry and scratchy.

“Want water?” Yuri asked, sucking lightly at his shoulder before clambering off him. Filling a cup in the bathroom, Yuri returned to find Otabek sitting up in bed. He smiled softly and handed him the cup, watching him carefully as he sipped. He noticed his hand was shaking.

“Okay,” Otabek finally said. “That was worth it.”

“You think so?” Yuri asked, smiling and squeezing his hand tightly. “You happy?”

“Yes,” Otabek said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. “That was incredible. When you’re right, you’re right, Plisetsky.”

“You make a good puppy,” Yuri murmured, kissing his cheek and petting over his chest. Otabek passed him the cup and Yuri downed the rest of it. “I like trying new things with you.”

“Good,” Otabek said, pushing Yuri onto his back and cuddling up against his side. “Because I still have a lot of things to try.”

 

 

“Hey, Yura,” Otabek said the next day, nuzzling under his ear. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”

“If you wanted to have a talk, you shouldn’t have gotten us drunk,” Yuri critiqued, pointing at him with his wineglass and sinking deeper into Otabek’s couch, feeling at his most comfortable here in his apartment in Almaty.

“We’re not drunk, we’re tipsy.”

“The difference being…?”

“Tipsy isn’t too drunk to have a conversation.”

“Circular reasoning, hotstuff,” Yuri drawled, smiling good-naturedly at his boyfriend.

“Mmm,” Otabek hummed leaning in to suck a kiss into his throat. “You know I like it when you talk all preppy.”

Yuri laughed and put his glass down. He turned on the couch to face his partner fully, planting his elbow on the back of the couch and resting his head in his hand. He stared at his boyfriend, taking a few moments to marvel again at how lucky he was. After months of being together, of flying to each other’s countries to train and fuck and _be in love_ , somehow the soft melt of Otabek’s eyes could still rob Yuri’s lungs of air. He could fall into them, drown in them, and still thank any god out there for the sheer privilege.

He couldn’t believe Otabek could still look at him like that. They knew everything about each other now. They’d done nearly everything two bodies could do to one another. And still, Otabek looked at Yuri like he was an angel.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Yuri asked, already knowing he would give this man the world if he asked.

“Threesomes,” Otabek said easily, grinning when Yuri jolted with a shocked laugh.

“Really? Okay, let’s talk about threesomes,” Yuri giggled, picking his wineglass back up. Now he was glad he was a little tipsy for this conversation.

“How do you feel about them?” Otabek asked, hand feeling searingly hot on Yuri’s knee.

“Like, hypothetically? Or about actually having one?”

“Are those two different answers?” Otabek asked, his face showing no judgment.

“Maybe,” Yuri hedged taking a sip. “Why do you ask?”

“There are a lot of people who want to fuck us,” Otabek said seriously. “I’ve gotten so many invitations just from the people we know here in Kazakhstan.” Yuri’s cheeks heated at being so desired.

“Like who?” Yuri giggled, though he could guess.

“Marcus, obviously,” Otabek said, running his fingers through Yuri’s hair. “He asked me on the first night he met you. And Aleksei’s girlfriends both want to fuck you.”

“Wouldn’t that be, like, a fivesome?” Yuri asked, swirling the wine in his glass.

“They said they’d just want me and him to watch,” Otabek said, and the darkness in his eyes said he’d be okay with that. Yuri considered it.

“See, the problem with threesomes,” he said slowly, “is that I don’t want anyone else to touch you.” Otabek’s cheeks flushed a little, even as a little disappointment showed on his face. “I would rip off the hands of anyone who touched you without permission,” Yuri insisted, sliding closer against his side.

“And if I gave them permission?” Otabek asked and Yuri put a finger over his lips.

“If _I_ gave them permission,” Yuri stressed. “And I wouldn’t. Because I’m the only one who gets to touch you.” Otabek let out a sigh, and sagged a little against the couch. “But,” Yuri said, not wanting to see his boyfriend wilt too much. “If we set some rules, and they knew not to touch you, I think we could make it work.”

“Yeah?” Otabek asked, face perking up again.

“You could touch them, and do whatever you wanted to them,” Yuri said, tapping his lip as he thought. “You could use them. Like toys. But they don’t get to touch you. Or kiss you. Or suck on any part of your except your cock.”

“Fuck, Yura, yes,” Otabek groaned, sliding into his lap, running his hands up his chest.

“I’m the only person who will ever lay a hand on you again,” he growled, taking big fists of his hair and wrenching his head back, hissing in his ear.

“Shit, kitten, you’re so possessive,” Otabek groaned, offering his neck for Yuri’s teeth.

“Yeah you’re fucking right,” Yuri rumbled against his skin. “Don’t ever forget who you belong to. You’re fucking mine and only mine.” He sucked a purple spot under his ear, staking his claim. Otabek’s dick twitched against his stomach so he figured that was okay.

“Yours,” Otabek agreed, moaning towards the ceiling. Yuri pulled off his neck with a wicked grin.

“So, I think we’d better start with the girls,” he said.

“What?” Otabek asked, still wide-eyed and dazed. “Really?”

“They said they only wanted you to watch, right?” Otabek blinked a few times before nodding, slowly. “As long as Aleksei keeps his hands to himself, I think that’s a good place to start,” he purred, pressing their chests together and grinding a slow roll up into his partner’s ass.

“Aleksei is straight,” Otabek gasped, flexing his fingers against Yuri’s shoulders. He then hit Yuri was a quizzical look. “Do you even like girls?”

“We’re going to find out.”

“And after the girls?” Otabek asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“If it goes well,” Yuri cautioned, “I think you know who will be next,” Yuri smirked back at him. “He’s been waiting a really long time. And I think it’s about time we give him a call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know that you came back for this newest chapter. I know it's been a really long time so I hope someone is still reading. Threesome is next! Guest starring everyone's favorite Korean Skater.


	20. The Threesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad for not updating for so long that I really went overboard here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the off chance that anyone is still interested in reading this disaster of a fic, I have finally updated. Sorry it took me half a year, but it was a crazy couple months, fam. So to make it up to you all, if anyone is still there, I offer you 14,000 words of threesome content. I hope that makes up for the absence.

As it turns out, international threesomes were not particularly easy to set up. They actually seemed to take a lot of time to arrange and the waiting seemed interminable. As someone with rather serious impulse control issues, it was killing Yuri that Seung-gil didn’t want to just jump on a plane and come have sex with him.

It didn’t help that half the time Otabek and Yuri were together they weren’t in a place available for a threesome. Viktor and Yuuri were pretty chill guardians, and were, for the most part, sex positive. But knowing that their kid was having a threesome in the apartment might be a little much, even for Viktor. So it had to be in Kazakhstan, which meant that Yuri and Seung-gil both had to have a reason to be in that part of the world at the same time. And ‘dick’ didn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing you could put on a travel authorization.

Yuri and Otabek talked long and hard about what a threesome with another skater might be like. Athletic, obviously. But Yuri was also hesitant to be vulnerable in front of anyone else. Otabek had _earned_ his vulnerability, was trusted with all the softer sides of Yuri. He wasn’t ready to give that away to anyone else. So it was agreed that no matter what they did, Yuri would have to be in control, would have to call the shots. When they shared that condition with Seung-gil over Skype, they watched his dick twitch and figured he was on board.

Their Skype calls were a strange sort of exercise in restraint. Every call would start with Seung-gil lounging on his couch, blank face and completely composed. It infuriated Yuri. He wanted the blushing, sputtering glassy-eyed boy who couldn’t even remember his name, not some stone-faced robot discussing getting fucked like it wasn’t even his ass. So Yuri enjoyed teasing him. Sucking kisses into Otabek’s throat, watching Seung-gil’s eyelashes flutter at the little sighs he made. Running his hands through his hair, letting it fall across his face and bare chest before brushing it back again. He spoke lewdly and crudely about the things he wanted to do to Seung-gil, about the things he wanted to watch Otabek do to him, emboldened by the rising blush on his cheeks. Yuri’s personal favorite call would probably have to be the one that began with Seung-gil asking how much training he should do before the day finally arrived to make sure he could take Otabek’s cock easily. As one might imagine, it ended with Yuri flexing around his boyfriend’s cock, watching in awed arousal as Seung-gil impaled himself on a massive toy. Yeah, he’d be ready, that was no longer a concern.

After a few Skype calls during which they carefully negotiated rules and conditions, the bulk of the coordination occurred over text. So when Yuri and Otabek got the text that Seung-gil would be taking a trip to Nepal in a few months, and that he could make sure his return flight included a weekend in Almaty, Yuri made sure his schedule matched up. It wasn’t a perfect situation; Yuri and Otabek would have to go those two months without visiting each other in order to ensure that Viktor would allow Yuri to make that trip, instead of trying to get Otabek to Russia, which would’ve been the plan based on their usual schedule, of visiting every six weeks, alternating rinks each time. And because they had been coming up on a visit in just a few weeks, when they got the text, they had to postpone. It hurt, Yuri had been looking forward to seeing Otabek, and sleeping in his bed again. But he hoped it would be worth it. Seung-gil said it would.

The plane ride to Almaty felt like the longest of his life. Yuri was glad that Seung-gil’s flight wouldn’t come in until a few days after his; it would be nice to spend a few days with Otabek all to himself.

The first couple days were all softness and tender touches, both of them relieved to be back together after so long. It felt so normal, for two people actively anticipating a long-waited threesome. It didn’t really seem real until they were waiting at the apartment, sheets changed and fresh, floor vacuumed and bathroom scrubbed.

“Is it weird that he didn’t want us to get him at the airport?” Otabek fretted, making tea in the kitchen.

“I don’t think so,” Yuri mused, petting strange designs into a sequined pillow. “He’s a private person, I don’t think fucking us is going to change that. Honestly, I’m kinda glad he got his own hotel room.” Yuri stood up and cracked his back, striding to the kitchen to drape himself over Otabek’s back. “There’s only so much time I’m willing to spend with someone else. Three days could be overkill.”

When he leaned around him to kiss his cheek, he felt it dimple under his lips. Yuri grinned as well, pleased that Otabek knew himself to be a unique exception.

“Hey, I love you,” Otabek said easily, stirring a spoonful of honey into his tea, tragically oversweetening it. Yuri stole it anyway.

“I know you do,” he said curling his finger into the band of his partner’s leggings and snapping them against his hip as he made his way back to the couch. They were lounging when the knock came, Yuri’s feet in Otabek’s lap, the mug empty on the sidetable. Yuri lifted his legs to release his partner, but stayed splayed out on the furniture, head lolling against the arm of the couch, watching his partner answer the door. This was the first test.

“Hey,” Otabek said, that minimal quirk to his lips that was so easily missed but so very intentional. The kind that made anyone with even the slightest sexual inkling inside them want to kiss him.

“Hey,” Seung-gil said, stepping through the doorway. He was staring at Otabek intently, with that laser focus and calculating gaze. His hands twitched and he licked his lips. He put his hands in his pockets and looked for Yuri.

“Hey,” Yuri said, with a dangerous smirk and a lifted brow. Seung-gil said nothing. “Should we go over the rules?”

“I remember the rules,” he said, shrugging and stepping deeper into the apartment as Otabek closed the door behind him.

“Why don’t you remind me of them,” Yuri said calmly, twirling a piece of hair around his finger. Otabek rolled his eyes at him over Seung-gil’s shoulder but Yuri ignored him. He was a little dramatic, so what? He got it from his dad.

“I can’t touch Otabek unless you tell me I can or he puts my hands on him. And I can’t tell anyone about what we do here.” Seung-gil said easily, but Yuri thought that he might look a little nervous.

“And?” Yuri said, sliding fluidly to his feet. He was pleased to see that he now had at least a few inches over the other boy.

“And I promise to follow directions,” Seung-gil finished softly, dropping his gaze slightly, a pink flush to his cheeks. Yuri saw Otabek bite his lip behind the other boy. He gave him a slight nod.

It didn’t take him any further convincing to close the space between him, his big hands, callused from guitar and his bike, closed around Seung-gil’s hips as he pressed up against his back. Seung-gil’s eyes flickered with surprise and Yuri grinned victoriously.

“Wanna get started?” Otabek asked, chin resting on Seung-gil’s shoulder, breath washing over his ear. But the question was clearly directed at Yuri.

“I can’t wait,” Yuri said, striding forward and grabbing the sides of his hoodie to pull him up into a kiss.

Yuri should’ve remembered, from the party all those months ago, the way Seung-gil dove into kisses. He shoved his tongue into his mouth, eager and impatient, and Yuri gripped his hair for leverage, pushing his head back until it was resting on Otabek’s shoulder. Seung-gil groaned lightly, the first of many, and Yuri took control of the kiss. Pulling away every time Seung-gil got too greedy he quickly trained him to wait for Yuri’s every move and breath. Yuri felt knuckles brush against his sides and knew that Otabek was letting his hands wander. Pulling his mouth up and away, Yuri watched with wet-lipped gratification as Seung-gil tried to follow up, mouth searching for more. Seung-gil’s eyes fluttered open for half a second before Yuri gripped his jaw with a long-fingered hand. He pushed his jaw back and up, neck stretched over Otabek’s shoulder, throat bared. Yuri felt his gasp under his palm.

“Who wears a turtleneck to a threesome?” he wondered to Otabek, before pulling his high collar aside and watching Otabek latch onto the pale skin. Taking a halfstep closer, Yuri pressed fully against the other boy, thighs to chest, feeling him shudder as Otabek turned his neck pink and damp. Releasing his grip on his chin and collar, Yuri started pulling his clothes off. He worked with determined hands to yank his hoodie down his arms, interrupting Otabek’s quest to turn the boy to jelly with his mouth in order to pull his sweater up over his head. Otabek looked up at him with eyes alight with excitement and Yuri had to lean over the newly bared chest in front of him to kiss his boyfriend. He explored the new taste of his lips, swollen from kissing someone other than himself, and the spark of jealousy that he thought would come was erased by Seung-gil’s cool hands tugging at his own clothes and his mouth pressing sloppily against his shoulder. Seung-gil was not shy about spit, licking wide stripes across the rounded muscle of Yuri’s shoulder and the curve of his collarbone, sucking kisses whenever he could fit his mouth around a piece of flesh, making his tshirt wet and sticking to him. Yuri grabbed his head with one hand and Otabek’s with the other, sucking on his boyfriend’s tongue while he felt him reach around to undo the fly of Seung-gil’s trousers.

Yuri stepped away, keeping eye contact with Otabek while he pulled his shirt over his head, grinning when Otabek shoved Seung-gil’s pants down around his ankles. Grabbing him by his black hair, Yuri yanked Seung-gil into another kiss, letting his hands wander over his stretched torso, thumbs flickering over his nipples as Seung-gil did his own exploration. His nails were shorter than Otabek’s and Yuri barely felt them when they sank into his shoulders, a stuttering moan breaking into their kiss. Yuri pulled away and didn’t see Otabek, until he looked down over Seung-gil’s back and saw his boyfriend shoving his face between the other boy’s asscheeks, dampening his briefs with his tongue.

“Yeah,” Yuri panted, nodding frantically. “Yeah, let’s do that. Come on,” he said, pulling Seung-gil forward. It took him a moment to step out of his crumpled trousers, and Yuri could tell that the awkward stumble he did was embarrassing to him. Yuri smirked and let out a mean little giggle as he drug the boy forward. Collapsing back onto the couch, with his legs spread, he pointed to the ground between his knees.

“Suck him off,” Otabek said following tight against Seung-gil’s back, hands on his shoulders pushing him down. He hardly needed the encouragement, melting immediately down onto his heels and putting his hands on Yuri’s thighs. Yuri bit his lip on a moan when Otabek sank down behind him with a frown on his face, grabbing his hips and yanking them back up, sending Seung-gil’s face into the edge of the couch and a meep out of his lips. “Keep your ass up,” Otabek growled, with a little smack that sounded louder than it actually was. Seung-gil whined, the first truly involuntary sound knocked free from his chest, and for a moment he seemed to forget that Yuri was there at all.

He reminded him with a hand tangled in his loose curls, dragging his face off the fabric of the couch and onto his thighs instead. He was wearing a loose pair of Otabek’s running shorts, and it didn’t take more than a second for Seung-gil to find his cock through the fabric. He stretched the waistband out and over his erection at the same time that Otabek finally pulled his briefs off his ass. Seung-gil smothered his moan into the skin of Yuri’s balls as Otabek pushed his face into his ass. Yuri didn’t need to see what was happening to know that it was good; the pink flush darkening Seung-gil’s cheeks told him all he needed to know.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Yuri asked rhetorically, as he slapped his cock against the side of Seung-gil’s head. He answered with an affirming moan, swallowing his cock in a single, talented stroke. Yuri cursed, pushing his hips up rudely into his throat, hands on his hair holding him tightly as he gagged. He relented when he watched a shiver run down his back, arching as he gagged, hips pushing back into his boyfriend’s face. Pulling his shirt over his head, Yuri’s gaze followed the tantalizing grove of his spine to see Otabek staring up at him, one hand spreading his ass wide, the other shoved into his leggings, squeezing around his cock. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head tip back against the couch, eyes closed as he tried to predict the movements of an unfamiliar mouth on his cock. He heard the familiar wet slurping of Otabek doing what he did best, and the resulting moans and whimpers vibrated up his body in the most perfect of ways.

“Yuri, fuck,” Otabek groaned, coming up for air. “ _He’s already loose_ ,” Otabek said in Russian, just for him.

“Oh shit,” Yuri sighed, in awe. “Did you get ready without us?” he asked in English.

“I didn’t want to waste time,” Seung-gil said against the tip of Yuri’s cock, letting his lips slide wetly over the pink head.

“Oh my god,” Yuri moaned. “I haven’t even decided what I want to do first.”

“You could fuck me,” Seung-gil suggested, looking up at him while he stroked his face down the length of his wet dick. “While I break my jaw on Otabek’s cock.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said on a strangled moan, nearly kneeing Seung-gil in the eye in his hurry to get up and around him. He pushed off his shorts and found Otabek waiting for him on his knees behind Seung-gil’s upturned ass. Otabek met him with a warm mouth on his cock and two fingers pushed absently into the other boy’s hole. Seung-gil sounded suspiciously like he was biting the couch cushion as Otabek loudly sucked on Yuri’s cock. Yuri watched as his knuckles spread his hole wide, leaning backward to awkwardly search around the side table, blindly searching for the lube. Otabek finally pulled off his cock and stood to shuck his leggings off, kissing Yuri sweetly as the passed each other, trading places at each end of their new lover.

Seung-gil swallowed two of Yuri’s slick fingers so easily that he didn’t even take them out before pushing in a third. His moan was choked by the head of Otabek’s cock, already more than halfway into his mouth. Yuri watched with a hint of jealously as Seung-gil’s throat steadily made room for his thick cock, the distortion of his throat visible as he gagged. He was messy, spit already dripping from the corner of his mouth, and it was only when a soft, gorgeous sound floated up out of Otabek’s mouth that the spark of jealousy was fanned into a flame.

Yuri fumbled to open a condom, hands slick with lube and shaking from the sounds Otabek made. Once it was on, he shoved inside with a single, sharp thrust and the garbled cry Seung-gil let out made Otabek’s eyelids flutter. His hands flexed where they held onto Otabek’s thighs, and he pulled off his cock to bury his face into his stomach, choked groans pushed out of him with every sharp thrust of Yuri’s hips. Yuri didn’t know if he’d found his prostate already or if he was just reacting to the force, but he maintained his angle anyway, a punishing rhythm that made a sweat break out over his skin. Seung-gil’s forehead bounced against Otabek’s abs, hair stuck to his flushed face and eyes open and glazed.

“Come on,” Yuri said through gritted teeth. “Use your mouth.” Seung-gil did, lacking all of the finesse from before, now only and open and panting mouth for Otabek to push his cock in. A mean grin was bitten into Yuri’s lips as he pounded into the narrow ass before him, running his hands up and down his sides, finding spots that made him flinch and ones that made him groan.

“Yuri,” Otabek said, hands brushing through Seung-gil’s hair as he watched him mouth half-heartedly as his cock. “Slow down, I want his throat again.” He looked up at him and gave Yuri his sweetest look. “Please?” Yuri blew a strand of hair out of his face and stilled his hips, with his cock buried deep inside.

“Mkay,” he panted, bending over the sweaty back in front of him to nose at his ear. “You’re gonna do real good for my Beka, aren’t you?” he asked, rolling his hips in tiny thrusts to keep things interesting. Seung-gil nodded, already taking him in deeper. “That’s good, you’re good,” Yuri said absently as he concentrated on gradually changing the angle of his thrusts. He needed to be thorough, so it took him awhile, but by the Otabek’s was cursing and clutching at black curls, Yuri had found the spot inside him that made him squirm and fuck his hips back.

“Fuck off, Yuri, you’re distracting him,” Otabek bit out. Yuri could tell by the flexing of his abs that he was working hard to stay still.

“You gonna come?” he asked, trailing his teeth over Seung-gil’s shoulder, looking up at his boyfriend’s flushed face.

“I could,” he answered, untangling one of his hands from Seung-gil’s hair to grab onto Yuri’s.

“Do you swallow?” Yuri asked, biting at his ear. They’d all gotten tested, but he figured it was polite to ask. Seung-gil nodded, tongue swirling around the head of his cock before he took him back down to the base, throat convulsing to take him all in.

“Good,” Yuri said simply, before beginning to fuck him again, with strength and precision. Seung-gil’s body pushed between them like a wave, crashing forward onto Otabek’s dick before being drawn back against Yuri’s hips. Yuri saw the pinch between Otabek’s brows right before he came and he snapped his hips forward hard, filling him from both ends. He heard Otabek pant and curse, and he watched Seung-gil’s throat work as he swallowed, licking up his cock, not missing anything. Yuri wrapped an arm around his chest and pulled him up off his dick before Otabek was too sensitive. Seung-gil was pink-cheeked and covered in spit. He let his head loll back on Yuri’s shoulder with a self-satisfied smile. Yuri huffed a laugh at him.

“You proud of yourself?” he asked, tweaking a flat nipple between his fingers.

“Ten out of ten,” Seung-gil panted with a grin. Yuri rolled his eyes, but looking at Otabek, head still tipped back, hands running over his face as he recovered, he thought he might be right.

“What now?” he asked, pushing into his ass with tiny thrusts, a subtle reminder.

“You tell me,” Seung-gil said, bouncing a little in his lap.

“How many times can you come?” Yuri sucked light kisses into his shoulder.

“Again, you tell me.”

Otabek chuckled, finally leaning forward and drawing Seung-gil’s head towards him for a kiss with gentle hands in his hair. It was clearly meant to be a short kiss, a grateful, post-blowjob smack of lips. But then Seung-gil’s hands came up and grabbed at the sides of his face, tongue pushing into the kiss, hands holding him close.

Yuri didn’t hesitate before grabbing his elbows and wrenching them back. With Seung-gil off balance, it was easy to force him to the ground, face pressed into the rug in front of the couch, elbows pinned to his low back, a surprised moan shaking his teeth. His heart pounded as he replayed the kiss in his head. Yuri blew a measured breath out of his teeth.

“I know I told you that you could kiss,” he said tightly. “But you do not get to grab him like that.” Seung-gil flexed his forearms in his grip but made no attempt to get away. He groaned a long and low, “oh fuck yes” into the carpet.

“Okay, that’s fine, Yura, it’s okay,” Otabek said, hands warm on his chest. “He won’t touch me again.” Otabek glanced down at the boy smushed into the floor. “Seung-gil, you good?” The only answer was a garbled moan and his ass clenching tightly around Yuri’s cock. It forced a harsh exhale out of his lungs and he hung his head as the sharp burst of anger and jealousy faded.

“If you promise to behave, I will make you come right now,” he said lowly, and Seung-gil’s hips shoved back into him with a wet whimper. In order to make up for his outburst, which Seung-gil seemed to have quite enjoyed, Yuri fucked him with hard and precise thrusts and a reached to get a tight grip around his untouched cock. It was soaked with precome and it didn’t take more than a dozen strokes for Seung-gil to come, carpet burn marring his cheek as he wheezed through his orgasm.

He worked him through it with gritted teeth, needing a break, trying not to come. When he was limp and panting, Yuri pulled out and stepped back. He took a deep breath and looked at Otabek, who was already watching him. His hair was tousled, from hands other than his own, and Yuri needed to fix it. He slid one knee up onto the couch and bent over him, pulling him into a long and slow kiss, hands on his cheeks and stroking down his throat.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Otabek murmured against this mouth, hands gentle on his hips. Yuri hummed an agreement and turned to help Seung-gil up off the floor. Otabek used his foot to wipe up Seung-gil’s come with Yuri’s shorts while the boy straightened up on shaky legs.

“Sorry I got rough,” Yuri mumbled awkwardly as he led Seung-gil to the bedroom.

“It was really fucking hot,” Seung-gil said with a snort.

“It wasn’t cool, sorry,” Yuri said with a shrug, fiddling with a condom on the bedside table. Seung-gil climbed up without hesitation, slinking like a big cat as he laid down.

“I don’t care, you can do whatever you want to me,” he said, grabbing Yuri’s wrist and pulling. Yuri followed, crawling up and over him as he heard Otabek close the door. He kissed him, settling between his legs, running his hands up and down his thighs that spread so easily for him. “Fuck me,” Seung-gil said into their kiss, heels pulling at his ass.

“You’re not hard,” Yuri said, rutting against his soft cock.

“I know, fix it,” Seung-gil said flatly. Otabek giggled, from where he’d settled on the bed to watch. It did bring a smile to Yuri’s face, and he looked up to roll his eyes at his partner.

“He’s such a fucking brat,” he said.

“I know,” Otabek agreed. “How did I end up with two of you?”

“Ha ha,” Yuri drawled. “Very funny.” Otabek grinned and passed him the lube without needing to be asked. When Yuri was slick again, he handed it back. “Ready?” he asked, looking down to wear Seung-gil was still splayed out under him. He just hummed in affirmation, running his hands up and down Yuri’s stomach. He went in slowly this time, savoring the feeling with long exhale. He felt Otabek shifting around and realized he’d closed his eyes. He felt Seung-gil’s breath puffing over his face and thought that that was some how more intimate than having your dick in someone. He dropped his mouth to his throat, sucking and biting as he worked a slow rhythm.

It wasn’t long before he felt Otabek settle in behind him. He felt warm lips brushing along his spine moments before slick fingers were rubbing against his hole, letting the motion of his thrusts do the work. He sighed, turning his hips up into the touch, causing Seung-gil to whine and shift his hips up in response.

“Wait, wait,” Yuri breathed into his ear as he felt a finger push into him. When he was in to the knuckle, Yuri moved again, pushing between the two, teeth clamping down on Seung-gil’s ear when a second finger twisted inside him. “Yeah,” he breathed. “More.”

His hips stuttered, pushing a moan out of Seung-gil when Otabek circled his prostate. Yuri felt another pair of hands curl up over his hips, mapping out the expanse of his ass and trailing in. He buried his face in Seung-gil’s shoulder and whined in a very undignified way when he felt one of his fingers push in along his boyfriend’s. He snapped his hips back harder, and Seung-gil had to wrap his legs high up on his back to keep his dick inside him. He writhed under him, fucking himself on his cock with a finger shoved in his ass, holding him open as Otabek worked more lube into him.

Yuri felt Otabek grab Seung-gil’s wrist and pull it free, their slick fingers sliding across the cool skin of his ass. Yuri knew it was coming, but it still made him shiver when the fat head of Otabek’s cock pressed against his hole.

“Wait,” he panted.

“Why?” Otabek asked, stroking his dick along the crease of his ass as he reached for a foil.

“Because you're going to fuck him,” Yuri said, taking a moment to deliver a few more focused thrusts into the warm body beneath him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Seung-gil begged, hands clenching on Yuri’s sides as he pulled out. He worked his knees up and over Seung-gil’s, crawling out from between his legs until he was straddling his stomach and Otabek was a heavy heat against his back.

“That’s why you’re the smart one,” Otabek said quietly, as rolled the condom on and pushed in. Yuri’s answering laugh was lost in Seung-gil’s gasp, spine cracking as his head snapped back into the pillows.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Seung-gil panted, his hand working over his cock, staring up at Yuri with wide eyes. He reached back and squeezed around the length of Otabek that wasn’t inside him. He brushed against the stretched skin of his rim and Yuri’s mouth watered. “Oh fuck, that’s so big.” Yuri nodded, his hair falling over his face and sticking to Seung-gil’s chest and shoulders.

“Say thank you,” he murmured, pulling the condom off himself and reaching for a new one.

“Thank you,” Seung-gil said, even as his face was screwed up in exquisite agony, Otabek not even all the way in.

“Almost there,” Otabek assured him, face buried in the back of Yuri’s neck, his warm breath a welcome kindness.

“You’re doing good,” Yuri praised him, shifting up on his knees so he could reach behind himself and slide the new condom down Seung-gil’s length.

“Oh,” he said, eyes flying open, as Otabek pushed the rest of the way in as Yuri slid himself down.

Yuri knew Seung-gil was watching when he tipped his head back and met Otabek in a sloppy and wet kiss. Which made it all the more gratifying when he clenched around him and the boy whimpered.

“Let’s fucking wreck him,” he whispered to Beka. He was answered by a sweet kiss, a hard thrust and a guttural shout. With a grin, Yuri braced himself on Seung-gil’s heaving chest and worked himself over the writhing boy’s dick, adjusting every time Otabek grabbed the other boy by the thighs and hauled him closer.

By the time the tips of Yuri’s hair was soaked with sweat and sticking to three different bodies, Seung-gil’s pupils hadn’t made a reappearance from when they’d rolled back in his head and Yuri was growing a little concerned that they’d broken him. But based on the way his hands would clench into Yuri’s shoulders and the way his breath caught when Yuri flicked his nipples made him think he was probably okay. Yuri planted his elbows on the bed and leaned forward, biting at his lips and snapped his hips back.

“Yura,” Otabek whined, and Yuri considered the picture he made, asshole stretched tight around another man’s cock. He looked back over his shoulder, hair stuck to his pink face, and smirked. “God, I love you,” Otabek groaned, slamming his hips hard into Seung-gil, and letting his mouth fall down against where Yuri was wrapped around him, tonguing over his stretched hole and the base of Seung-gil’s dick.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m going to come,” Seung-gil said, hands scrabbling over Yuri’s arms, hips jerking.

“You’re not,” Otabek said shortly, squeezing his forefinger and thumb into a tight ring around the base of his cock. Seung-gil wailed, abs seizing, eyes damp. “Not until Yura is done with you.” Seung-gil’s chest heaved with a gorgeous sob and Yuri bit at his cheek and jaw with a shark-toothed smile as he worked his hips in purposefully slow and cruel circles. “Yura, come here, lean back,” Otabek asked, voice rough and husky, and it was weird for Yuri to think that he wasn’t the reason. Except he was, he always was. Yuri straightened up, feeling Otabek’s hand still wrapped around Seung-gil’s dick in an unforgiving cockring. He reached back and found hot skin and sweaty hair. He leaned back against his chest, adjusting his knees so he could keep riding Seung-gil’s dick, letting both arms wrap back around Otabek’s neck.

“Oh fuck, oh my god,” Seung-gil whined, watching them with tortured eyes, before he trailed off in Korean. Otabek held one of his legs up by the knee to keep him open and in place for his slow but deep thrusts. Yuri clung to him, leaning his weight against his chest so he could keep rolling his hips up and down, fucking himself perfectly.

“Beka, shit, Beks,” he whined, twisting his face into his arm as he found the perfect height for him to scrape his prostate against Seung-gil’s cock on every thrust. Otabek finally released his hold on the other boy’s cock to wrap his hand around Yuri’s instead.

“Is that good, kitten?” Otabek murmured into his ear in Russian, getting hair in his face, stroking him just right.

“Yes, yes, so good,” Yuri answered, distantly aware that Seung-gil was shuddering and cursing underneath him, hands clenching on his hips and tangling with Otabek’s over his cock. When he came, it was with a choked scream, half buried in Otabek’s throat, Otabek’s arm wrapped around his waist as Seung-gil pulled him off.

When Yuri finally went limp and sagged in Otabek’s arms, he was carefully maneuvered to the side, slumping down onto the cool sheets next to Seung-gil. He watched with a dazed wonder as Otabek folded the other boy in half, pushing his knees into his chest and fucking him so well Seung-gil couldn’t even scream for it. He reached for him, uncoordinated and blind with lust, but even come-drunk and weak, Yuri was faster. He grabbed his hands and planted them on the bed over his head, crossed at the wrist and bent at the elbows so they were easier to hold down.

“Shh,” Yuri shushed him gently, lying his head next to his and staring up at Otabek, sweating and perfect and so dedicated to making him come. “Just relax,” he said, running a hand across his stomach. “He’s good, let him take care of you.”

“It’s so big, fuck,” Seung-gil breathed, eyes looking dazed and glassy, head rolling back and forth across the sheets, dark hair trailing like ink. “I just want to come.”

“Mhmm,” Yuri hummed, pressing kisses to his flushed face and throat. He looked at Otabek, pushing his hair back to get a better look. Otabek’s chest was flushed, and the little silver hoops threaded through his nipples were jolting with each piercing thrust of his hips. He nuzzled his head into Seung-gil’s armpit and stared up at his boyfriend. Otabek looked down at him like it was him he was fucking instead of the red-faced and babbling boy begging for release. Yuri smiled at him, dopey and sex drunk and just the slightest bit filthy as he let his hand wrap loosely around Seung-gil’s wet dick. He didn’t pull the condom off and stroked lightly over the latex, watching as his strong stomach tensed and spasmed as he cried out.

He came with a choking gasp that Yuri wanted to make fun of, but he was cut off by Otabek’s lips, crashing down onto his in a harsh kiss. He hummed into it, knowing his partner must be close. He dropped his hand between them to help pull him off, but was knocked away. Otabek quickly crawled forward over Seung-gil’s still heaving chest, dropped the condom onto the sheets beside them and pulled himself off in a few efficient strokes over Seung-gil’s flushed and sweaty face.

Otabek collapsed on the other side of him, groaning when he landed on the used condom. Yuri chuckled as he watched him dig it out from underneath his worn body, dropping it lamely onto the ground. When Otabek was finally looking back towards him with a dazed and blissful expression, Yuri leaned over on an elbow and licked a drop of come from Seung-gil’s still gaping mouth, teasing at his bitten lip with his tongue. Otabek groaned and met him in the middle, kissing him soundly. Yuri cupped the back of Seung-gil’s head in his hand, worming his fingers through the sweaty hair there to pull the exhausted boy up into the kiss, making a mess of sit and come and tongues between them. It was incredible.

“This was a great idea,” Yuri sighed, squirming away from the tangle of limbs to press his hot skin against cool sheet. He wiped the back of his wrist over his mouth and closed his eyes. “I’m a fucking genius.”

All he heard in reply were content groans and he smiled at the ceiling at a job well done.

 

 

Seung-gil didn’t stay the night, and Yuri was fine with that. But they did hang out for the rest of the day. Yuri was distressed to find that the older boy was better at most video games, and Otabek was a little too pleased with the fresh competition. Otabek cooked dinner, they ate, and then Seung-gil went back to his hotel. Yuri bullied his boyfriend into helping him wash the sheets and they watched a few hours of Netflix and then went to bed. As Yuri settled on his side of the bed, scrolling mindlessly through instagram, he idly thought that it seemed like kind of an anticlimactic end to a fucking wild day. He looked over to Otabek, face half-smushed into his pillow and snoring gently, and thought that he should plan something even more special for tomorrow. Now that they’d worked the first couple jitters out, now they could really have some fun.

He shuffled over to drop a kiss on Otabek’s forehead, chuckling into his hair when the sleeping man tried to bat him away. He returned to his side of the bed, plugged in his phone and settled in. His brain didn’t want to quiet down until he had formulated a plan, like figuring out a tough choreography.

He hadn’t exactly been surprised by his jealousy over Otabek today, but it still left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He felt oddly embarrassed that he could invite another man to have sex with them, but couldn’t watch him touch his partner. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Otabek, obviously. It was more that he didn’t want anyone else to make Otabek feel good like he did. He coveted the sole privilege of being able to take the man apart so much that he didn’t want to give anyone else the shot. But, if he were being honest with himself, plenty of other people had had Otabek before him, and if he was confident in his ability to please him, and secure in his belief that Otabek would love him no matter who else could fuck him right, then he should be able to share him. Yuri stared at the ceiling and thought about the circumstances in which he could give Otabek want he wanted; another pair of hands to touch him with, another cock or mouth or hole to fuck him with, another person to help overwhelm him completely. He wondered what it would be like to push himself to share control, not just with Otabek but _over_ Otabek. To do something for Otabek that he knew he would enjoy, even if it was hard for him.

Yuri fell asleep while staring at the ceiling, contemplating his options.

In the morning Otabek made him a perfect breakfast and an excellent cup of coffee, all without ever expecting a thank you. He kissed him on the nose and talked easily about their future and Yuri fell a little more in love, watching him scroll through Twitter while brushing his teeth. Yuri decided it would be worth it. Spoiling this man, giving him something no one else could, or ever would, was all Yuri wanted to do. And fortunately, he had a prop to help.

It didn’t take Otabek all that much convincing, when he shared what he wanted to do. Yuri had honestly expected him to be more concerned, worried about Yuri’s emotional well-being and jealousy issues, but Otabek didn’t say a thing. Yuri supposed that he was due for a little selfishness and he let it go without a second thought.

He could tell that Otabek was radiating with excitement, his fingers flexing restlessly as he waited for Seung-gil to join them again. Yuri got him ready early, knowing that the anticipation would help build his arousal, knowing that teasingly running his fingertips down the muscled groove of his spine made him shiver. He twitched when Seung-gil knocked on the door, startled by the sharp sound ringing over the soft music playing in the apartment.

Yuri swung the door open with a casual smugness, watching with appreciation when Seung-gil’s eyes widened and his breath burst out in a gasp. He leaned against the doorway and looked over his shoulder, admiring the display he’d made.

Otabek’s eyes had fucking sparkled when Yuri had asked him to help him move the couch so the living room floor was clear. Seung-gil couldn’t see that, though, due to the thick blindfold wrapped around his head. He knelt in the center of the room, wearing only black socks, because Yuri knew his feet got cold when he spent this much time pressed to the floor. His arms were bound behind him from wrist to elbow with a soft purple silk that looked absolutely royal against his tan skin. The strain on his shoulders kept his back arched in the most lovely curve, his ass flushed and wet between the cheeks.

“God,” Seung-gil choked, stumbling over the threshold. Yuri laughed meanly and watched Otabek’s cheeks flush even darker.

“He looks like an angel, doesn’t he?” Yuri mused, closing the door and sliding his arm around Seung-gil’s waist.

“Fuck,” Seung-gil gasped, leaning back into his chest. “I didn’t think…”

“No one ever does,” Yuri assured him, drawing him over to where his boyfriend knelt, knees and chest on the floor. “But doesn’t he look perfect like this?”

“Yeah,” Seung-gil breathed, his hands twitching at his sides. “But, the rules. I can’t touch him.”

“I changed my mind. You can touch him, but you follow my lead,” Yuri said lowly, watching both of them shudder at the words.

“Whatever you want,” Seung-gil said, eyes locked on the gorgeous image his partner made.

“It’s okay, go ahead.”

Seung-gil didn’t need any further encouragement. He spilled to his knees and ran his hands up the bowed line of Otabek’s back, his skin twitching under his palms. He scraped his hands down, grabbing handfuls of his ass and spreading his cheeks to see his hole fluttering and glistening.

“I told you, I'm not a dom,” Seung-gil murmured distractedly as he slid in a dry finger, pushing a soft huff out of Otabek’s lips. He’d been prepped for so long, he probably felt so empty.

“I know,” Yuri said, sitting down by Otabek’s strained shoulders and rubbing his hands over his muscles. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be useful. You’re going to do what I say, to make him feel good.”

“What do you want?” Seung-gil asked, looking up at Yuri with blown-black eyes, his cheeks already sex-red.

“We’re going to fuck him.” Otabek moaned, pressing his eager sound into the side of Yuri’s thigh. He soothed him with a hand in his hair, careful not to disrupt the blindfold that blocked his vision and dampened his hearing. “And he’s going to guess which one of us is in him.”

“If he’s right?” Seung-gil asks, twisting two fingers into his waiting hole.

“He gets to come.” Seung-gil groaned and pressed his face into Otabek’s ass, biting over the golden skin. “And if he’s wrong, get gets punished.”

“How?” Seung-gil asked, his voice already strained to cracking. His bespoke trousers were tented, the perfect pleats broken.

“How does ten smacks sound, babe?” Yuri asked to his partner, reaching out to smack his hand against the supple curve of his ass.

“Yes,” Otabek croaked, the first he’d spoken in a long time, already pretty low in his headspace.

“He can guess whenever he’s ready,” Yuri murmured, ghosting kisses down the length of his bicep and then along his heaving ribs. He kissed down along his body until he was pressed against Seung-gil’s side, tugging on his clothes. “If he’s right, he comes, whether he’s ready or not.” Otabek whimpered against the floor and Yuri pressed his hands up under Seung-gil’s sweater, peeling it up and tossing it away. He kissed him loudly, Seung-gil’s tongue making a rapid appearance in his mouth.

As their clothes disappeared, Yuri bore the other boy down onto his back, climbing over him and settling between his legs and running his hands over his pale chest.

“Otabek,” Seung-gil murmured against his lips.

“Let him wait,” Yuri answered in a series of kisses across his jaw towards his ear. “We don’t want him to know which one of us touches him first.”

“He can hear us,” Seung-gil said, though he didn’t sound altogether concerned by that.

“Blindfold goes over his ears, plus the music,” Yuri replied shortly, sucking at his neck. “He can hear, but not well. We’re fine like this.” Seung-gil’s hands came up to tangle in his hair, and he took that to mean that he was in agreement and ready to move on.

Yuri rutted against him until his cock was fully hard, and then pulled the boy up to seated. He grabbed his hand and pressed his fingertips against Otabek’s hole, watching him twitch at the unexpected contact. He took Seung-gil’s other hand and placed it on his back, encouraging him to stroke him soothingly while they pushed their fingers in together. Otabek moaned, low and quiet, and Yuri was excited to change that. He grabbed the lube from where he’d left it nearby and squeezed a liberal amount over their fingers. He pushed back on the intrusion, more than ready and not afraid to show it. Yuri chuckled and handed Seung-gil a condom. Seung-gil still seemed dazed and star-struck, but Yuri thought he would get over that as soon as he got his dick inside and heard the hungry noises Otabek would make.

Yuri wrapped himself around Seung-gil’s back and helped line him up, hand settling on Otabek’s restless hip as he began to push in. He gasped out a grateful groan and Yuri quickly brought his hand up to stifle the whine that Seung-gil released as his dick was swallowed so easily. Yuri ran his other hand up Otabek’s spine, grinning with selfish pleasure as he saw the two men in front of him devolve into need that he had created.

It didn’t take long for Otabek to start working his hips back, fucking himself perfectly, his toes curling against the floor. Yuri smirked as he pressed his lips against the hinge of the other boy’s jaw. He knew making Otabek wait so long would make him impatient and needy. He would be too eager to pace himself. He would be exhausted and overstimulated before long. He idly rubbed his dick against the small of Seung-gil’s back, stroking his hands over Otabek’s hips, entertaining himself as their guest began to sweat and curse between them. He could tell Otabek was close too, by the way he was shortening his thrusts, controlling the impact of Seung-gil’s hips to grind the head of his dick against his prostate. Yuri leaned around Seung-gil to press his lips against Otabek’s palm, turned up to the ceiling by the binding wrapping around his forearms. His fingers twitched against his cheek and Yuri nipped at the meat of his thumb.

“Yura,” Otabek gasped, and Yuri let him feel his smile against his skin.

“Is that your guess?” he asked, loud enough to be heard.

“Yeah, yes, please,” Otabek panted, pushing back harder, thighs shaking.

“You’re wrong,” Yuri tsked, straightening up and grabbing Seung-gil’s shoulder, pulling him back. He grunted and gripped Otabek’s hips harder, still shoving in again and again. Yuri rolled his eyes and let him finish, only needing a new more pumps before he was groaning and doubling over, fingers spasming against Otabek’s flushed skin, dark fringe brushing the ropes around his forearms. Otabek grumbled in disappointment, twitching uncomfortably when Seung-gil finally pulled out and sat back on his heels, breathing heavily.

“Well I guess the next one will be a bit of a freebie,” Yuri murmured good-naturedly.

“Sorry,” Seung-gil said, though he didn’t look sorry at all, cheeks flushed and a small smile curving his lips.

“Mhmm, okay,” Yuri chuckled, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. “Wanna do the honors?” he asked, grabbing a handful of Otabek’s ass and shaking it.

“Yeah, yes,” Seung-gil said, hastily pulling the used condom off and tying it off. He looked around for a place to put it and Yuri decided to be helpful. He took it and made his way to the kitchen trashcan.

“Count so I can hear it,” he tossed over his shoulder and he heard Otabek sigh at the first slap. He was back by the time Seung-gil got to six and he settled next to him, massaging at his boyfriend’s strained shoulders as their guest turned his asscheeks a light pink. Seung-gil finished ten with a wet kiss to his hole, fingers digging into the tender cheeks. Yuri leaned down and pressed a kiss to Otabek’s open mouth.

“How you doing baby?” he asked, putting his mouth close enough to his ear to be heard.

“So good,” Otabek murmured.

“Arms okay?”

“Yeah, just, please fuck me.” Otabek rubbed his cheek against Yuri’s, using his limited range of motion to beg so nicely. Yuri ran a hand through his hair, squeezing at the base of his neck and kissed his shoulder.

“Yes sir,” he said sarcastically, but set about making his boyfriend more comfortable anyway. He grabbed a pillow from the couch and helped Otabek lean up onto his knees to place it under his chest. “Because Seung-gil just blew his load, you’re gonna know this is me. But that also means you have to suck him off until he’s hard again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Otabek said, setting his knees wider and arching his back further to pull his chin up, mouth open and waiting. Seung-gil crawled around him on all fours, settling by his face and burying his hands in his hair, almost disturbing the careful knot of his blindfold. Yuri rolled down a condom to the sound to Otabek slurping around Seung-gil’s soft cock, working him diligently. Seung-gil’s face creased with an overwhelmed, near painful, look of pleasure. Yuri slicked himself up and pressed in easily. He wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t start slow. He knew Otabek had been close and was willing to push him over the edge. He immediately lost focus, if the quiet encouragements of Seung-gil were any indication, and Yuri could easily imagine the slack-jawed and eye-rolling expression on his face, one he was always so proud to cause. He knocked Otabek’s knees out wider, making it harder for him to push back against every thrust, taking it upon himself to find his prostate and abuse it.

Yuri watched the play of emotions across Seung-gil’s face, using that to help distract from the suffocating tightness of his boyfriend around him, eagerly squeezing around his cock. Otabek’s hands were rhythmically clenching and releasing in their binding, his thighs shuddering and moaning around the cock hardening in his mouth. He started making sounds that might’ve been Yuri’s name, muddled by his eager attention that had Seung-gil squirming again. Yuri took pity and didn’t make him try again to say it. As it was, his face was getting damp with sweat and he needed a break himself if he wanted to stay in control, to make this good for all of them. He dropped a hand to wrap around Otabek’s cock and began to stroke. Soon Seung-gil’s fingers tangled with his own and with a grateful cry Otabek covered their knuckles in come, pulsing around Yuri’s cock and moaning around Seung-gil’s.

Yuri fucked him through it, letting him come down and pulling out when he was ready. Then he grabbed his arms where his elbows were bound together and pulled, dragging the older boy up to his on his heels and lean against Yuri’s chest.

“Was that good, pup?” he asked, watching as Seung-gil licked experimentally at the come on his skin.

“So good,” Otabek said quietly, his stomach still twitching in waves of aftershock.

“You’re doing so well,” Yuri told him, pressing sweet kisses against his hot cheek. “You look so good between us.” Otabek’s panting mouth pulled into a smile and he leaned back further against his boyfriend’s chest. “Very good,” Yuri assured him one more time before directing him back to the floor, beaconing Seung-gil with a curled finger.

The other boy obeyed, coming to sit by his side behind Otabek. Yuri wasted no time in climbing into the boy’s lap, one arm wrapping around his neck to pull him into a hard kiss, the other hand holding their cocks together, stroking them in his fist.

“He is so good, so fucking hot, Yuri,” Seung-gil breathed into his mouth. Yuri hummed in agreement, licking at the roof of his mouth as he tilted his head back.

“I’m gonna fuck him again,” Yuri whispered, covering the words with the smack of his lips. “I want you lying between his legs, sucking his balls.”

“Yeah, good,” Seung-gil agreed, hips rabbiting into his fist, one hand scraping up and down his back. Yuri saw the other one pressing fingers into Otabek’s hole, his hips lazy riding them. Yuri ran his hand down his arm and curled around his wrist, pulling his fingers out. He brought his hand up between their faces.

“How do you feel about ass-to-mouth?” Yuri asked, trying not to blush at the filthiness of his suggestion. Apparently unfazed, Seung-gil just stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them with abandon and Yuri groaned, dick twitching against his, spitting a bead of precome between them. “So if I pull out of him…”

“You can fuck my face whenever you want,” Seung-gil vowed with a shiver, his hand rushing to form a tight grip around the base of his dick. “Fuck, use me however you want.”

“Good,” Yuri said, trying not to sound too breathless as he gulped, mouth dry. “Let’s do it, then.”

This time when he sunk into his boyfriend’s ass, he kept a tight grip around the base of his dick, resisting the urge to shove all the way in. He teased Otabek with shallow thrusts and pulled his knees wide as Seung-gil slowly inched his way underneath them. He ran his pale fingers up Yuri’s thighs tickling against his hips before turning to grab Otabek, chin lifting to take his balls into his mouth. Otabek’s shoulders flexed and strained as he groaned, fighting his bonds for the first time, grinding his forehead into the ground as his toes curled up. Then Yuri really let him have it, setting a rhythm of hard and deep thrusts.

He wanted to come. He wanted to come but he also wanted to make Otabek sweat. He wanted to come but he also wanted to fuck Seung-gil’s face. He counted to one hundred in his head, biting his lip enough for it to swell as he focused, wishing he had a hairtie to pull his hair away from his sweaty face. When he got to one hundred, he pulled out of Otabek and pushed him forward with one hand, grabbing Seung-gil’s shoulder with the other and dragging him up onto his cock. With a little shuffling, Seung-gil’s head with pulled up to rest against Otabek’s ass and Yuri’s cock was jabbing at the back of his throat. Seung-gil was loud, gagging and gasping, tears leaking out of his eyes and his fist flying over his own cock. Yuri grabbing his wrist, and held it over his head, fumbling until it was pressed against Otabek’s fingers. After a second of prodding, Otabek grabbed his wrist and held it for him, his fingers weak from limited blood but Seung-gil seemed eager to be held down. Yuri then returned both his hands to Seung-gil’s wild black curls and yanked his mouth over his cock, grunting and cursing as he fucked into his throat. He was so close to coming his vision was beginning to tunnel.

With a guttural growl, Yuri pulled away. Chest heaving, eyes locked on the wet mess of Seung-gil’s face, Yuri scraped a hand through his hair, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Seung-gil recovered quicker than him, coughing a few times before pulling his arm free of Otabek’s loose grip and lying back down underneath his straining thighs, catching a falling drop of precome on his tongue. Otabek whimpered as his tongue lapped against the head of his cock, hanging low and swollen with blood again. After a few more careful breaths, Yuri pressed back into Otabek, lying over his back.

“Fuck, Yura,” Otabek moaned. “If that looked as hot as it sounded, you have to do that again so I can see it.”

Yuri chuckled a breathless laugh against the eagle gracing Otabek’s back.

“How’d you know?” he teased, nipping kisses across his shoulders.

“I taught you to be quieter than that, kitten,” he said and Yuri could hear the smile in his voice.

“Very good,” he said, rolling his eyes but still reaching down to wrap his hand around Otabek’s cock. He expected Seung-gil to wiggle out from underneath them, but instead he felt his mouth close over the tip of Otabek’s dick, tongue swirling and lips bumping against Yuri’s fist as he stroked. Otabek cursed and keened his way through another orgasm, Seung-gil swallowing without a second thought, licking over his spent cock and Yuri’s long fingers.

Yuri helped their guest sit up and then helped Otabek lie down, giving his knees a rest.

“Nice job,” Yuri said to Seung-gil, brushing sweat soaked hair away from his face and kissing him deep enough to taste Otabek and himself in the back of his throat. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes,” Seung-gil said with a dreamy sigh, letting his forehead drop against Yuri’s shoulder in an oddly tender state of contentment.

“I need a break, I’m so fucking close,” Yuri confessed.

“Come,” he encouraged instead, looking up at him with his steely eyes. “Come right now, for me.”

“Otabek will know it’s you then,” Yuri cautioned, but his belly was already warming at the teasing touch of Seung-gil’s fingers against him.

“Be quiet,” Seung-gil whispered, against his ear, tongue curling around the shell as he squeezed around his cock. “He won’t know. Come for me.” His hand was sure and fast over his dick, slick over the condom he was still wearing.

It was too late for Yuri to protest, so he just sunk his teeth deep into Seung-gil’s shoulder and muffled his groans in his skin as he shot into the condom. Seung-gil groaned in pain and cursed quietly when Yuri unclamped his jaw.

“Fuck, you’re so loud, I can’t believe that was you being quiet,” Seung-gil said, poking at the mark left on his skin as he dropped Yuri’s spent cock from his hand and slid into place behind Otabek, grabbing a new condom from the dwindling pile on the floor near them.

Yuri was still reeling from endorphins, and he laid back on the floor for a moment to recover. He let his head loll to the side and watched as Seung-gil carefully pushed one of Otabek’s thighs up and slid the rubber down. A palmful of lube and Seung-gil was pushing into him, stretching over his back and pressing him into the floor. He fucked him almost gently, working him up into a rhythm, using his knee to keep him spread, adjusting the pillow under his chest to keep him comfortable. Seung-gil looked so familiar with his boyfriend, fucking him well and making him moan. Yuri decided to do something about it.

He grabbed a small vibe he’d set aside after blindfolding Otabek and turned it on. On its lowest setting, Yuri hoped it would be quiet enough for Otabek to not hear it, especially not over the sounds Seung-gil made as he lubed it lightly and pressed it against his hole. He bit his lip on a curse and looked back as Yuri was a conflicted expression, his hips stuttering as he tried to fuck Otabek and grind back against the sensation at the same time. With the slightest push, the toy slid into Seung-gil, small enough to just tease his rim and tantalize his muscles, but not stretch him too much or reach his prostate. Yuri nodded as the boy’s rhythm quickly deteriorated.

Otabek whimpered as his thrusts lost control, suddenly harder and more unpredictable. His dick was pinned between the carpet and his stomach, filling against but slower this time. Yuri knew he couldn’t come again, not so soon after the last one. Which was why he was surprised when he gasped out a name.

“Yura,” he groaned, hips squirming back. Seung-gil pulled out, without coming this time, and slid down onto his back. He grabbed the vibe and began pumping it in and out of his hole, elbow thrown over his face as he pleasured himself. Yuri pulled his eyes away from the scene when Otabek struggled up onto his knees, ass waving in the air again.

“Wrong, Beka,” Yura hummed, stroking his hands over his asscheeks. “But I think you knew that.” Otabek didn’t even have time to smirk before Yuri spanked him, hard. He landed all ten swats on his right cheek, concentrating the pain and causing Otabek to hiss and wince by the time they got to seven. By ten he was lurching away from his touch and his fingers were curled into tight, white-knuckled fists.

He let Otabek rest and come down from the rush of pain, turning his attention to Seung-gil again. He was still fucking himself with the vibe, legs spread whorishly wide, and the image made Yuri wish he’d chosen a bigger, more powerful one, if this was the reaction he got from the smallest. He replaced Seung-gil’s hand with his own, fucking him with the tiny toy and watching as Seung-gil immediately grabbed his cock, his other hand covering his mouth. Yuri leaned over him, fucking him hard and fast.

“Do you want to come like this?” he whispered.

“Yes, yes, I fucking love vibes, ah,” Seung-gil whimpered, trying his hardest to be quiet, his voice crackling.

“It’s not even big,” Yuri said with a judgmental tone.

“Don’t care,” he said, neck arching and teeth gleaming against his red lip.

“Fine, come,” Yuri ordered, and after a few more desperate breaths, Yuri shoved his thumb in alongside the toy and Seung-gil did, choking on a moan as he come, eyes comically wide, ass crushingly tight around Yuri’s digit and the toy. Yuri pulled his hand away, brushed a grounding touch over Seung-gil’s heaving chest before returning to Otabek.

His fingers had begun to turn a little too red, so Yuri decided a break would be good for all of them. He left the blindfold securely in place but began undoing the careful bindings cinching his forearms together behind his back. When his arms were released, Yuri rolled Otabek onto his back, straddling his stomach to massage the tension out of his chest and shoulders.

“Are we done?” Otabek asked, voice sounding far away and soft.

“Just a break, we’re not finished with you yet,” Yuri promised him, kissing him gently. He deepened the kiss when Otabek responded eagerly, opening his mouth and sighing into it. Yuri indulged him with long slow drags of his tongue, sucking at his lip and tasting blood from where he’d bitten himself. He heard Seung-gil get up and slowly make his way to the kitchen. He heard the sink run and then he was back with glasses of water. Yuri took them gratefully and helped Otabek sit up to sip from the cup he held up to him.

Otabek drank a little before crawling blindly forward into Yuri’s lap, running his freed hands through his hair and over his arms. He smeared kisses over his skin, craving closeness, and Yuri provided. Wrapping him up in his arms he squeezed him in a tight hug before dropping his hands to grope at his ass. Otabek sucked air through his teeth.

“You sore already?” Yuri asked, silently beaconing Seung-gil to slide in behind Otabek, pining him between their chests.

“A little,” Otabek said around a sigh. “But I want more.” Seung-gil cursed behind him and pulled him backwards into a sloppy kiss. Yuri let it happen, using it as a distraction as he got the ropes ready again.

When he knew what he wanted to do next, he interrupted them by joining the kiss and slowly pulling his boyfriend away. He went willingly, following Yuri as he nudged him down onto his back, Seung-gil scrambling out of the way, occupying himself with running a hand through Yuri’s hair, the other twisting at his own nipples.

Yuri settled Otabek’s hips on a pillow, before peeling his hands off him, and directing him to hold his own legs up. Otabek did so eagerly, flexibility and strength opening him up. Yuri admired the view, running his hands over his thighs, testing their strength. When he looped one end of the rope around his wrist a few times, followed by the tops of his thighs, Otabek squirmed, exhaling hard as he understood.

“Oh fuck,” Seung-gil mumbled, before trailing off in Korean.

“That’s the idea,” Yuri answered distractedly, tongue peaking out of his lips as he focused on tying his partner’s wrists to his thighs. When he was freshly bound, Yuri turned to Seung-gil, fist on his hand and a grin on his face. As they rock-paper-scissored to determine who would fuck his squirming boyfriend’s hole, Yuri felt so intensely filthy and horny that even when Seung-gil won, he pulled him into a wet kiss, rutting his dick against him until they were both hard again.

It was slower now, a more lazy erection, both of them satisfied and glowy after their first orgasms that there was significantly less rush than before. When Seung-gil finally made his way back inside Otabek, they both let out a gentle sigh. He fucked him slow and hard, holding himself up over him with arms that were strong and steady. Yuri sat back and watched, stroking himself slowly, watching the shapes his partner’s face made as he was fucked again, trying to guess at whose dick was stretching him open. If they had been doing anything except this, anything that wasn’t so insanely twisted and filthy and _sexy_ , Yuri probably would’ve been tired by now. But knowing that Otabek was sore and full and not even knowing who was in him made something dark and hot burn in Yuri’s stomach. It made his heart hurt with how much trust Otabek put in him, and how much he yearned to make him feel good.

“Fuck,” Otabek bit out after many long minutes. His dick was red against his stomach, purple at the tip. “I need to come.”

“Guess,” Yuri ordered.

“I don’t know,” Otabek gasped, lip pulled into his mouth, brows furrowed. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Slutty boy,” Yuri murmured, barely restraining himself from reaching out to touch him. “Don’t even know whose cock is filling you up.”

Otabek bit out a few Kazakh curses but his dick spurted precome onto his stomach, his hands flexing in fists. He finished with “Fuck, kitten,” in Russian and Yuri grinned.

“Is that your guess?”

“No,” Otabek panted, “It’s Seung-gil. Fuck, Seung-gil, make me come.”

Seung-gil did, sucking a nipple ring into his mouth and fisting his cock tight and fast. He came spitting and cursing, forehead creased in exquisite pain, abs twitching and flexing, looking like he was barely clinging to sanity. Their new lover fucked him though the aftershocks and into overstimulation, only pulling away when Otabek begged him to stop.

“How many times can he come?” Seung-gil asked, breathless and panting, running his hand through the puddles of come left on Otabek’s stomach and hips. “His cock is so fucking big, how does he keep going?”

“He’s very talented,” Yuri murmured, lying down next to the man in question, stroking over his face and offering him a grounding heat to lean into, helping him come back down. Otabek had been doing a good job of just lingering on the cusp of subspace, the addition of a third party keeping him from sinking down as easily, but Yuri could tell he was down now, that last orgasm having truly pushed him over the edge. “He could come maybe one more time,” Yuri said, running his hand down his chest, flicking at his nipples, listening for the catch in his throat as he toyed with him.

“Hey,” Seung-gil said, getting his attention. Yuri hummed, letting him know he was listening. “Come here,” the other boy insisted, and Yuri pressed a lingering kiss to Otabek’s mostly lax lips before sitting up and being drawn in by Seung-gil’s needy hands. “I have an idea,” the older boy murmured in his ear. “Can we fuck him together?”

Yuri groaned, leaning his head against their third’s chest, considering his proposal. He and Otabek had talked about it before, not necessarily with a third person but with a toy, testing his limits. He thought Beka would like it. And he knew he was fucking dying for it.

“Yes,” he hissed, pulling Seung-gil into a hard kiss, a smash of lips that had no finesse. “God, yes.”

Yuri untied Otabek, momentarily wishing he’d fucked him when he was tied up so beautifully like that, but he dismissed it, knowing there would always be time to revisit that same bondage some other day. Otabek responded slowly to directions, taking a while to sit up and slide into Yuri’s lap, moving like lava, slow and scorching. He was still so hot and wet when Yuri slid him down over his cock, but the tightness was gone, the suffocating squeeze of his muscle was so much weaker now. Yuri told him so, filthy whispers in his ears causing Otabek to whine and shake in his lap.

The blond wrapped his arms around his waist and slowly laid down onto his back, pulling his blindfolded partner down to rest against his chest. Otabek nuzzled against his chest, huffing out little breaths as Yuri fucked up into him with teasing strokes. He seemed so soft and sleepy like that, lying against him, ready to be used and comforted. Yuri studied his face as Seung-gil put a hand on his back, inching in between his legs on his knees. He watched Otabek’s brow furrow in confusion. Then his mouth dropped open on a tortured moan, and Yuri felt the head of Seung-gil’s pretty cock nudging against where they were connected. A shuddering moan shook up his whole spine as Seung-gil pushed in, and the three of them groaned curses in different languages.

Though his hands were finally free, Otabek just laid on Yuri’s chest, body lurching with each slow thrust as he was split open by two cocks. His fingers twitched uselessly and his mouth hung open around a silent scream that his body was too exhausted to produce. Yuri’s neck was starting to hurt from craning it up to keep looking at his boyfriend’s face, but he looked so fucking gorgeous and wrecked, he couldn’t look away. He looked so exquisitely pleasured and empty and calm and _fucked_ and Yuri couldn’t help but burst with pride at having done that for him. He let his head thump back against the floor, looking up at Seung-gil’s face, looking almost as wrecked, steely eyes wild, hair stuck to his face, looking so untethered and uncontrolled, so very opposite from how he was on the ice. He was staring down at where Otabek stretched impossibly tight around both of them, slow and shallow thrusts keeping them from slipping out.

“Can you come again?” Seung-gil asked worming his hand underneath Otabek to touch his cock. “Otabek?” he asked again, prodding, and Otabek shook his head.

“Too much, I can’t,” he mumbled against Yuri’s chest, twitching his hips away from Seung-gil’s hand, making his cock pop free of his tight grip. Seung-gil took his hand back and used it to line up his dick again. “Better,” Otabek said, when he was filled up again. Yuri’s come-scrambled brain worked slowly to put it together.

“If we don’t touch your pretty cock do you think you could come?” he asked, trying to keep his voice soft and sweet, even though he was breathless and hot. Otabek nodded against his chest, his lips rubbing and catching against his skin. Then he spread his thighs even further, pushing his ass back over their joined cocks.

Yuri cursed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to think of anything that wasn’t the shockingly erotic scene he was in, the filthy clench of his boyfriend’s tired hole and the press of an unfamiliar dick. He didn’t know how long it would take Otabek to come like this. He didn’t know if he could make it.

“You’re so good, Beka, you’re such a good little slut for me,” he murmured, hands gripping his hips, helping move him over his cock. “You’re making us feel so good, you’re so perfect for us.” Seung-gil buried a stream of Korean into Otabek’s skin, smearing them across his back, glistening with sweat, flushed from over-exertion. “You’re so tight baby, with both of us filling you up,” Yuri said, eyes squeezing shut as his thighs began to shake from the effort of keeping the rhythm. “So good you’re gonna make me come.” Otabek moaned against him, a tired, breathless sound. “But you gotta come first, isn’t that right?” Yuri was mostly babbling now, clinging to his control, fingers digging into his partners flesh. “We gotta make you come, treat my good boy right, so why don’t you come? Huh sweetie? Just come.”

Otabek’s breath was coming in hiccupy burst and his hands were clenched into fists, his face pressed hard into Yuri’s chest. Yuri couldn’t tell if he was fighting the sensation or chasing it. All he knew was that he was clinging to him, holding onto his boyfriend like he was the last stable thing in the world.

He almost forgot about Seung-gil.

Until Seung-gil brought his hand down against Otabek’s red ass again and again, until he was convulsing with a dry orgasm between them. Throat scream-rough and hands useless, Otabek thrashed between them, dislodging them both as he cried through another orgasm. Seung-gil was quick to replace their cocks with his fingers, massaging his prostate until Otabek was sobbing for breath, shivers running down his every limb, blindfold beginning to peel off his sweaty forehead from how hard he was burying his face in his boyfriend’s chest. He dropped on top of him, heaving for breath, whimpering and muttering as he came down, and Yuri didn’t even have to ask before Seung-gil was grabbing their dicks, ripping off their condoms and jerking them roughly together.

Yuri came with a loud gasp, choking on air and his head slammed back against the floor, splattering over Seung-gil’s fist and Otabek’s used ass. Seung-gil followed, silent but for a single guttural grunt, teeth abusing his lip and he stroked himself off over Otabek’s skin.

Head ringing from orgasm, his boyfriend entirely deadweight against his chest and Seung-gil’s hand bracing unsteadily on his thigh, Yuri thought his plan had been successful. Really messy, but fucking successful.

 

Seung-gil helped get Otabek to the bathroom and then left the two of them alone. Yuri tended to his boyfriend and smiled when he heard cooking sounds coming from the kitchen.

It took a while for Otabek to fully come back to him, the lingering ache of his stressed body making it hard to focus of Yuri’s voice. But he was patient, treating him softly and cleaning him in a warm bath. Eventually Otabek groaned and laid back into the water, releasing his clinging hold on the blond.

“Hey, Beks,” Yuri said softly, kneeling in the tub between his legs. “How ya doing?”

“So fucking good,” Otabek muttered, cupping some water in his hands and rubbing it up over his face. He wiped his eyes and then smiled up at Yuri. “That was even better than I thought it would be.”

“Not too much?” Yuri asked, chewing on his lip as he returned to washing his partner with his favorite soap.

“It was perfect. You were perfect,” Otabek assured him, moving as Yuri directed, getting clean and comforted. “Seung-gil was great.”

“Yeah, he surprised me,” Yuri said. “I didn’t think he’d be able to get rough with you the way he did.”

“Only because he had your permission,” Otabek assured him, drifting back into his arms, kissing at the damp tips of his hair, stuck to his arms. “I’m proud of you.”

“I should be saying that to you,” Yuri scoffed, running his hand through Otabek’s wet hair with a palmful of shampoo.

“You learned to share, babe,” Otabek said, closing his eyes and leaning into his touch. “At Leo’s party when we got together, even just a couple months ago, you said you’d rip the arms off anyone who touched me.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” Yuri said innocently, massaging his scalp.

“You did,” Otabek hummed. “But now look at you. Letting someone else fuck me, watching, getting off with us. That’s character growth.”

Yuri chuckled and kissed a closed eyelid.

“No it’s not,” he said. “It’s kinky.”

“Yeah,” Otabek said, opening his eyes and looking at him lazily, lovingly. “But it’s also confidence, and security. It’s you trusting me and being confident in yourself and being comfortable enough to do something new and scary. That’s amazing, kitten, and I’m so proud of you.”

Yuri’s cheeks were pink and he might have preened a little. He still dunked his boyfriend under the water, laughing when he came up sputtering.

“Only you could make a freaky threesome romantic.”

When they dried off and dressed in comfy clothes, they were met with savory smells coming from Otabek’s tiny kitchen. The music was still playing but the condom wrappers and lube littering the living room floor had all been cleaned away and the couch was moved into more or less the right part of the room. Seung-gil was at the stove, in a pair of borrowed boxers and nothing else. Seemingly back to his normal stoic exterior, he didn’t appear awkward or out of place, simply stirring at a pot on the stove. He turned when they came in, running his gaze calculatingly over both of them. A tiny smirk curling up his otherwise expressionless face as he caught Otabek limping.

“Spicy ramen,” he said as explanation before turning away from them. Yuri wondered what it meant about him that he was so attracted to men who seemed so blank and hard to read.

“Otabek, I think we just had sex with a robot,” Yuri teased, and Otabek’s laugh was rough but joyful. He thought he caught Seung-gil’s shoulders shaking a little too. He grabbed a piece of onion off a cutting board and tossed it at Seung-gil, earning a playful glare when it bounced off his bare shoulder. He smiled back, sex-drunk and happy. Seung-gil rolled his eyes, but handed him a bowl of steaming ramen, so he decided that was okay too.

He slurped loudly, the oily water soothing his lips, chapped from so much kissing and gasping. Otabek’s hands were still shaking, making it a little hard to use his chopsticks and Yuri gleefully bullied him about it, earning a rare chuckle from Seung-gil. After they’d eaten, Yuri bundled Otabek to the couch and put on a movie, inviting Seung-gil to join them. The boy hesitated for a long moment before shrugging and acquiescing.

It didn’t take long for the three of them to fall asleep on the couch, tangled together much like they had been before. This time, though, they were wrapped in soft clothes and soft snores.

 

 

When they awoke, Seung-gil was gone. They had texts on their phones saying he’d be back later. The pair enjoyed a lazy morning complete with a workout and brunch. Otabek grumbled good naturedly about the soreness of his muscles, but Yuri didn’t let him off the hook, baiting him with competitive snark. By late afternoon, they were back at the apartment and Seung-gil hadn’t shown up.

“Maybe we should text him?” Yuri asked. Otabek shrugged from his position laid flat across the couch, headphones and fuzzy socks on. Seung-gil replied and Yuri frowned, relaying his response to his partner.

“I asked him if he wanted to come over and he says he’s sightseeing.”

“We could’ve taken him sightseeing,” Otabek said, pulling his headphones down.

“Yeah,” Yuri said, shrugging. “I guess we’ll see him when he’s done.”

“What do you feeling like doing?” Otabek asked.

“Like, in the meantime? Or when he gets here?”

“I’m telling you right now that I am not doing anything more than this,” Otabek said, gesturing to himself and the couch and his music, “until he gets here.” Yuri rolled his eyes but agreed, too comfortable in his blanket nest on the armchair to complain. “But, when he comes over, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri sighed, letting his head fall back against a pillow. “I’m kinda fucked out, you know?”

“Trust me, I know,” Otabek said with a tired smile.

“I guess just like, a movie and some handjobs,” Yuri shrugged. Otabek nodded.

“Sounds good, you should tell him that.”

When Seung-gil did come by several hours later, the boys were in the same positions as before, relishing in the rare opportunity to be lazy. Yuri got up to get the door, ushering Seung-gil in. He grabbed his blankets from the chair and plopped them down onto Otabek, nudging at the older boy until he condensed himself on the couch so Yuri could fit next to him. Seung-gil perched on the chair, looking around blankly. He had a camera around his neck.

“You take pictures?” Yuri asked, rearranging his blankets over his and Otabek’s lap.

“It’s a hobby,” Seung-gil said shortly.

“Are you any good?” Yuri asked with a quirked brow.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s a hobby,” Seung-gil bit back quickly, and Yuri smiled.

“That bad, huh?” he teased.

“Fuck off, Plisetsky,” Seung-gil returned without heat, and Otabek huffed a laugh at listening to them bitch at each other.

“Seung-gil, pick a movie,” he said, tossing the remote. Seung-gil caught it and twirled it in his hand as he thought. Without saying anything or asking for preferences, he navigated to a Korean zombie movie. He put on English subtitles and settled in.

It was a fucking scary movie, and every time Yuri jumped, Seung-gil would smirk at him. Eventually Yuri stuck his tongue out at him and got a tiny chuckle. He was relieved that not much had changed after having sex.

After the movie, Otabek got up to make dinner, and Seung-gil slid under the blanket with Yuri. They made out leisurely, Yuri letting Seung-gil kiss him in that weird, tongue-heavy way that he seemed to enjoy. Seung-gil couldn’t seem to stop petting his hair, marveling at its length and softness. Yuri preened under the attention, leaning into the touch and letting his hands wander under the jacket of his tracksuit. Seung-gil got hard and Yuri jerked him off into his sweatpants, laughing at the face of disgust the other boy made when he realized the mess he’d made. Otabek tossed him fresh pants and told them food was ready.

It was an oddly easy and casual ending to such a long awaited and charged weekend. Seung-gil allowed the pair to accompany him to the airport for his late night flight home. They each kissed him before security and Yuri slapped his ass when he turned to walk away, earning a glare tossed back over his shoulder.

“Try not to think of me everyday!” Yuri called, waving and laughing when Seung-gil flipped them off and walked away.

The subway trip back was quiet, Otabek sitting and Yuri standing between his knees, lazily playing with his hair as he watched the sleeping city pass by the windows.

“Hey,” he said, tugging on his hair to get him to look up. “I had fun.”

“Good,” Otabek said, smiling softly. “I did, too.”

“I love you a lot, you know,” Yuri said, looking back out the window.

“I know. I definitely know,” Otabek said, turning his head to kiss his wrist.

“Can I tell you something embarrassing?”

“Of course,” Otabek murmured, leaning his head back against the glass, staring at him coolly. Yuri cleared his throat, shifting his weight on his feet.

“This whole _thing_ , with Seung-gil, and like, setting it up and stuff made me really look forward to when we get to live together,” Yuri said, ears turning pink. “Like, I think it’s cool that one day crazy sex stuff like that will be just a fun thing we do every couple months or whatever. And, like, we’ll have a house that we can live in together and just hang out and, you know, be like, married or whatever.”

Otabek didn’t say anything and after a few long minutes Yuri looked down at him. He was smiling up at him softly, and he nodded when Yuri met his eyes.

“Yeah. Married or whatever,” he said quietly, eyes sparkling. Yuri blushed and looked back out the window, fingers going back to playing with Otabek’s hair. He swayed as the subway car brought them closer to home, and Yuri stared out the dark window and imagined what home might look like in a few years. He leaned down and kissed the top of his boyfriend’s head, knowing at least that he would be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if anyone made it this far, if anyone is happy to see an update here, I'd love to hear about it in the comments!
> 
> A little update from me; in the last couple author notes I was bitching about how hard it is to get into grad school, and in this last semester of college I really had to focus on that. But I'm in! I got into my top choice program which is super fun and super cool, and I graduated from undergrad, so that's all finished now too. So I'll have plenty of time this summer to hopefully finish up this fic and continue to produce some cool content for these boys.
> 
> Anyhoo, leave a comment, leave kudos, validate me, and accept my apology for taking so long to update.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


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